What We've Left Behind
by MythicDragonRider
Summary: {1st in Left Behind trilogy} Arthur Kirkland has been missing for 10 years- declared dead in absentia. His 10 friends are mostly past it, but on the anniversary of his disappearance they accidentally stumble across a piece of evidence they never should've seen. Soon, they are sucked into a horrible plot, and discover the truth hidden in plain sight. Human AU, no pairings
1. 0- What Started It All

**Salutations!**

 **It has been a year since I started this story. As a celebration, I decided to rewrite this chapter, to show my improvement, and also because I'm not happy with it currently.  
The original is underneath the new one.  
**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

What We've Left Behind  
Chapter 1 Rewrite

It was if their entire lives had been rewritten in a single night.  
After all, before, everything was certain, or at least some things were taken for granted. They were all to live long and happy lives, staying as friends the whole time - always there to support one another. But, now every assumption had been thrown out the window.  
Because, now, Arthur was gone.

It wasn't an expected sort of leaving, a sad recognition of him being gone from their life for whatever reason. It didn't even feel real, feel possible. It was as sudden as lightning, because he had just disappeared, and within the house there had been signs of a struggle. Which meant, the most possible event... Was that for some unknown, obscure, terrible reason, Arthur Kirkland had been kidnapped.

Despite the evidence pointing towards it, it just didn't make sense. Who would want to take him, of all people? He was only 15 years old, and had no reason for hatred or anger against him. It was absurd to think someone had put in the effort to find a night when he would be alone, break into his house, fight and incapacitate him, and then sneak him away into the dark. There were unpleasant possibilities, that were difficult to consider, and even more difficult to think about.

Now there was someone missing among them. An empty space, where a person should be. 11 people downgraded to 10, a friend group losing a member completely unintentionally. Of course, it would be terrible to think they were the only ones affected.  
Arthur's family. His mother, and three siblings. They seemed to break, because now they had an empty bedroom, and history felt like repeating itself, because of the death of the father, so long ago.

But, despite all this terrible anguish, there was still hope left. He was only missing, not dead. The police could find him, and bring him back. Then everything would be forgotten and everyone would be happy and Arthur could become and author just like he had always wanted.  
Yet, the hope began to fade, as it always did.

Days and weeks felt like too much, but then they turned into months, and everything was sent spiraling down the drain. Then, a year had passed, a whole year since someone special had been taken from them.  
There wasn't much of it left.  
Somehow, he became a terrible tragedy of the past. A figment, a dream, that the realisation of could never be achieved because it had been so damn long. Never again would they see his annoyed grimace, or his relief as he finally had time to relax, or that ever-fleeting smile that meant so much, too much,  
Maybe that image was one of the only things left, in the end.

The years went by, and he was legally declared dead. There was no funeral held, no excess of tears shed. Arthur had been gone for so long now that mourning him as if he had just died was impossible. Losing someone to uncertainty was probably the one of the most painful forms of grieving, because it stuck to you, and it never went away because that closure couldn't be received and there was still a tiny bit left.  
A tiny bit of hope, lingering. And, perhaps that was what hurt most of all.

* * *

 **Salutations~!**

 **((Warning: this author's note is very long and rambling. Skip to the underlined line for the start of the important info))**

 **I'M SORRY!  
I know, I know. I have two ongoing stories (actually three but one is on hiatus). I shouldn't be writing another. But... I just had to write this. I really did. So, yeah.**

 **This idea was spawned from the dark recesses of my mind when I binge-watched 'Boku dake ga Inai Machi'. You know, the anime/manga that I spent ten minutes searching for on this website before realizing it was called the English name 'ERASED', instead. Argh, I'm disappointed. I mean, the SnK category is called the Japanese name, and so are many others, but this is the exception? Besides, I prefer the Japanese, 'cause it's a cool name. 'The Town Where Only I Am Missing' sounds much better than 'ERASED'.**

 **Sorry. I'm annoyed. By the way, if you haven't watched it, you totally should. I know it's the only anime anyone is talking about at the moment, but for really good reason! The characters are well-written, the plot is extremely original, and the antagonist is one you can loathe with all your being.**

 **Oops. A lot of words not even relating to this fanfiction. People who are new and are unaware of my rambling tendencies must be freaked out by now. PLEASE STAY!**

 **Quick, before I make most of the author's note random ramblings, info about this fanfiction:**

 **-As usual, no uploading schedule. It might be updated pretty inconsistently, since I have 2 other ongoing stories.  
-I have the chapters planned out, and there will be 21. This number might change if I feel it needs more or less.  
-Each chapter will be about 2,000 words long.  
-Past tense, third person.  
-As an Australian, some words will be spelt differently than in America. Oh, look, I just gave you 'spelt' as an example.  
-No pairings!**

 **((348 word author's note? I think that's a personal record...))**

 **Hope you enjoy~!**

* * *

Chapter 1

Their friend was gone.

More specifically, Arthur was. But... How?  
Arthur had always been so sensible. Arthur had always been so smart. Arthur had always been so organized and prepared. So how had he disappeared from their lives without a single word?

The police said there had been signs of a struggle in the house. But Arthur used to do self-defense classes, back when he was all edgy and even more annoying then usual. ...How had he lost? How had Arthur lost? Why was he gone? Why, why, why, was Arthur gone?

This had echoed through all their heads recently. When they had first found out. During the questioning. During the investigation. During everything. It was all a bad dream. While Arthur had been a pretty irritable guy, it wasn't enough for someone to _abduct_ him. To break into his house. To fight him. To knock him out and tie him up and put him in a car boot and take him to whoever-knows-where. At first, it hadn't been so bad. The police were the police, after all! They would investigate the crime scene, and track down the kidnapper, and put him in jail. Arthur would return, and nothing would change.

But that wasn't what had happened.

Days had passed. Then weeks. Then months. Now, it had been a year. An entire year had passed since Arthur had left. Had been kidnapped, abducted, stolen from them in a single night. Now, hopes had faded, and the group realized properly for the very first time.

Their friend was gone.  
And he wasn't coming back.

They had all reacted differently. Some of them sobbed. Some wept. Some just said nothing and cried privately. But Alfred, who had arguably had been the closest, didn't even cry. He just broke down inside, and hid it from everyone else. He didn't smile for a fortnight. Other people close to Arthur also reacted differently. His 3 brothers, who had seemed to hate him, all seemed to break. Alistair, who was the oldest, seemed to be the most hurt, which was odd, since everyone knew about how much they had seemed to loathe each other. His mother remembered the death of her husband, and sobbed alone.

Even though Arthur, legally, would be alive for years to come, everyone thought him dead.  
Maybe their loss of faith was cruel, or just sensible.  
They would never fully heal. It would always be a permanent scar on their souls.

Arthur had disappeared when he was just 15. 15! Such a life ahead, gone. Arthur had wanted to be an author. He wanted to craft stories with his mind, and bring joy to thousands. He had been inspired by Arthur Conan Doyle, claiming that he was destined to be a great author sharing the same first name as a legend. He would stay up until 12, on the computer. Writing while others would be playing games, or partying, or socializing. His friends had wanted him to get out more, but he had firmly stayed in front of the computer.

He had been abducted when he was home alone. His mother and brothers had gone out to see a play, but Arthur wanted to write. So he had written. And was stolen. And was never coming back.

Sometimes, hope would kindle in them. Sometimes, they thought that maybe he could still come back. But, the hope was gone quickly.

Their friend was gone.  
And still no return.

* * *

 **Well, don't we already know how much fun this angst trip is going to be?**

 **Sorry it's so short. It's the first chapter, after all. Kind of a prologue.**

 **Hope you enjoyed!**


	2. 1- Dusk and Mourning

**Salutations~!**

 **ARGH! SORRY THIS IS SO LATE! I WENT ON A CAMP FOR MOST OF THE WEEKEND! PLUS I'M LAZY!**

 **Anyway, Happy Easter and all that! :D**

 **I forgot to mention earlier that this is set in the USA. More specifically, California (at the start). Now, I am definitely not American. I am very sorry if I make any mistakes when writing about it. Please correct me if I do, so I can fix it.**

 **Oh, and I put up a poll. I need some characters for certain... ...roles in this trilogy. They may not appear in the first one, but they will have reasonably major roles in the 2nd and 3rd. Just to warn you, a few characters are not there because I already have roles for them. Go vote! ...Please?**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

Chapter 2

On the 27th of September, 2005, Arthur Kirkland went missing.  
Now, it was 2015, and the anniversary of the day grew nearer with each passing second.

As was routine in the group of 10 friends, Alfred would send out an email to them- using some excuse to meet up in the little town they had lived as teenagers. This year was particularly easy, with the supermoon occurring at the time. But, there had been various odd and even downright idiotic excuses to meet up in the past. None of them had questioned them, of course. Though the real reason was plain as day (and Alfred knew it), they would prefer not to talk about it, at least until it came to the night. This time, it was probably the most reasonable excuse he had used so far, since such an event is rare and, to an outsider, a group of old school friends meeting up to see the supermoon, all the while catching up on their lives, was normal.

But their underlying means were far from normal. Apart from the first horrid anniversary, it had been pretty easy to gather them all at the local park and stay up way into the night, even with the beginnings of dawn emerging at times. The fifth had also been relatively bad, since this marked when he was to be legally declared dead. Now, they were expecting another uncomfortable situation- since a ten year anniversary of a disappearance wasn't something that was pleasant. But, Alfred had stubbornly pledged to himself not to let anyone from their friend group be alone that night- so they weren't. Some flew in from other countries before the email was sent in anticipation of this- those who didn't live in the USA anymore.

Routine enforced Alfred would be the first there. He wouldn't be organised in the slightest, with no picnic blankets or dinner or anything of the sort. Then, the next person would arrive (most usually Matthew or Francis), and they would usually more prepared. They had all fallen into rolls- at least after they graduated. Francis would bring some of the food- he was a gourmet chef, after all. Gilbert and Ludwig would bring the beer, Ivan would bring vodka, Feliciano and Lovino would bring wine (and occasionally an Italian dish they had made together). Yao would also bring food- he was the other chef in their group and owned a Chinese restaurant. Matthew would bring the things everyone forgot, like the picnic blanket and salad and non-alcoholic beverages. Kiku brought the entertainment, just in case. He usually brought manga and the latest handheld device from Nintendo (which had started to feel like a marketing ploy ever since he started working for them).

Alfred, while unprepared, usually brought a Marvel comic in the same marketing ploy as Kiku. After a lot of indecision and confusion, he had decided on Marvel over DC. His digital art skills were excellent- he had wanted to make comics ever since he was 5 years old. So he practiced, doodling secretly in class, studying it at university. It paid off.

The Canadian arrived after Alfred today, laying down the old picnic blanket they had been using since the first time they came to the park. Alfred plucked a can of Coca Cola from the portable cooler that Matthew had brought, and started to drink. They had waited for about 5 minutes when Francis arrived, bringing delicious crepes in trust that Yao and the Vargas brothers could handle the main course. Indeed, Yao brought a delicious-looking dish, all with seasonings and sauces. It made Alfred's mouth water just looking at it. Kiku had a few issues of _Death Note_ and a New Nintendo 3DS. He had various games downloaded on it, and settled to play a bit of _Phoenix Wright: Trials and Tribulations_ while waiting for everyone to arrive. The Vargas brothers brought in an authentic Italian pizza, which also happened to be homemade. Lovino had a strong distaste for fast food pizza, claiming it was a blight upon what Americans considered Italian cuisine, using a colourful vocabulary of English and Italian swear words to describe it. This year, they didn't bring any wine.

The German brothers brought in expensive, quality beer, as usual. Ivan brought in vodka, but Alfred had the feeling he wasn't going to touch it. After all, it was a supermoon, and the Russian astronomer would probably want to be sober to see it. Already, he was happily describing what caused the supermoon, even though Alfred (and probably the rest of them) had no idea what all these science-y words meant.  
Ivan halted his explanation when he realised that no-one really knew what he was talking about.

They chatted for a little bit about small talk. A lot had changed in a year. Matthew's rank in professional ice hockey had increased yet again. He said that if he worked really hard, then he could play for Canada in the PyeongChang Winter Olympics in 2018. Kiku supposedly had big news about something Nintendo was making, but wasn't allowed to tell anyone. He seemed very excited for it. Yao was nervous about a restaurant that had recently opened around his, which seemed to be reasonable competition. Alfred was eagerly talking about a new game he was playing, called _Undertale_. Ludwig had to keep denying that _Phoenix Wright_ was accurate compared to being a real lawyer. Feliciano had brought his old Polaroid- rather than his new work-issued one and took a picture of them all, much like he had on meet-ups before. Despite that they weren't talking about anything overly important, there still was that underlying discomfort that no-one dared to address.  
Soon, they all quietened down. They knew what was coming next. Just a few more moments...

"...I can't believe it's been 10 years," Alfred muttered.

There it was. It was always Alfred who said it.  
There was an uncomfortable silence that was ensured to follow the statement. The next person was going to be Francis.

"Neither can I," the Frenchman replied.

An air of melancholy overtook, and they said nothing. Nothing needed to be said for now. It was only the beginning of the dreaded topic, and there was plenty of time for heated conversations and comforting and even tears later. After this silence, routine was thrown out the window. Anything could happen, and that's what made it terrifying.

"...Look at us. Every time, like this. We're like a bunch of old men thinking back on our lives," Kiku commented.  
Gilbert snorted, "Well, I certainly know one old man with us. Talking 'bout you, Yao."  
"Hey! I'm barely older than you!" Yao protested.

They all chuckled. Humour was a good way to start off one of these conversations. It died down quickly, and the less pleasant aspects that were inevitable in these types of conversations was fast approaching.

Alfred looked down, "I-"  
"No! You're not going to say what you were about to say. Every time, you say that, and every time it has the same result!" Lovino cut in.  
"That doesn't make it any less true!" snapped Alfred.  
Lovino snarled, "Well maybe if-"  
"Both of you, shut up! Alfred, we all know what you were going to say, and you're not going to say it. Lovino, maybe you should try being a little more polite," Ludwig interrupted them.

"Well, fine! I'm not going to say it, because _apparently_ you all know what it was, even if I was going to say something completely different!" Alfred huffed.  
Francis sighed, "Every time you say it. And now, even though you didn't this time, you created unnecessary conflict! Why can't we just not squabble like 4-year-olds, and instead try to be mature by talking without raising our voices."  
Silence enveloped everything, and Francis realised that he had just said something uncannily similar to what Arthur would in this situation. If he wasn't...

Yao closed his eyes, "Why? Why do we always do this, argue over nothing? It's been 10 years, and we still can't address the subject at hand without snapping at each other's throats or hide in the endless silences between our words. Why can't this just change, why can't we just let everything go? And, dammit, Alfred. Why won't you just say why we're really meeting in our emails? ...Why do we keep coming, and cancel our commitments, and make excuses to others, and waste money just to see each other? But, I think we can't answer these questions, despite how much we want to.

"The true answer could be explained by psychology. After all, childhood trauma isn't something that just fades away. It stays with you for your entire life. And, when we ask ourselves these questions, we don't actually want the answers, despite telling ourselves we do with all our hearts. I think, when we ask ourselves these, we're just filtering out the bigger question at hand. The question that we still hold firmly in our minds, the question that will probably never be answered. Why did our friend, Arthur Kirkland, disappear? Yes, I just said his name. It gives you chills, doesn't it? Because... Because we still can't let go. And we never will. So, I'll leave you with one last question that we really should know the answers to already. Why won't everything change?"

The Chinese man's outburst shocked everyone. He had always seemed wise far beyond his years. As if he was thousands of years old instead of just in his twenties. But this just seemed a little ridiculous. Yet, he had a point, albeit one with confusing origins. They realised he had completely quenched all arguments between them. And, though none of them looked close enough to notice, he had tears shining on his face. As did a lot of them.

They noticed that the supermoon had come out. They were so busy arguing and contemplating their philosophical and psychological condition, they had completely forgotten about it.

Ivan immediately launched into another long speech about the supermoon. They clung onto every word of his, trying to push aside what they had just heard, at least for now.

Maybe they were a little afraid.

* * *

 **I got very annoyed when I realised that I had to write 'portable cooler' instead of 'esky'.  
And, yes, the thing Kiku couldn't tell them about was Pokemon Sun and Moon.**

 **Oops. Lots of name drops in this one.**

 **The psychological speech by Yao was written completely by me, and I'm kinda proud of it. I might've stolen it from somewhere I can't remember because it was engraved in my subconscious. Who knows?**

 **Argh, this is basically all foreshadowing woven into the wording and more setting up the story. The plot properly starts next chapter, I promise!**

 **Hope you enjoyed!**


	3. 2- Hope Is Found In Strange Places

**Salutations~!**

 **Well, I managed to sit through the entire Endless Eight, so that's an achievement. I think its infamy is a little unwarranted. Sure, it's tedious, and it must have been really frustrating when it was first aired, but still... It was well performed, and it really helped me understand how victims of time loops must feel, such as Yuki and Italy. Also, Suzumiya Haruhi no Shoushitsu is absolutely amazing.**

 **I just realised that 'The World Keeps Spinning and I Keep Falling' has a title uncannily familiar to one that 'The Forgotten Traveller' has up on their profile. Sorry! I guess my subconscious was mean to me again... I would like to keep the title, though. Just message me if you would like me to change it.**

 **Just a warning, I am slightly scared that my research was a little iffy. If I am indeed wrong about facts involving the supermoon lunar eclipse, I would greatly appreciate it if you can correct me. However, I will require a source if this is the case.**

 **Anyway, I should probably stop rambling before I decide to write this later.**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

Chapter 3

After Ivan had finished his rather invigorated digress on the supermoon lunar eclipse, they all realised they had not yet eaten.

Indeed, the food was outstandingly delicious, and they found themselves thanking the 4 chefs profusely. It was clear that these dishes were not only made by expert fingers, but a lot of effort and spirit had gone into them. It always seemed this way, on the 27th. When they would visit them (or their restaurant) at any other time, the food tasted as if it hadn't been made with such passion and vigor. No-one said anything about it, but they all knew it. Like most conversation topics on that day. After they had finished and given their copious thanks, they continued with the small talk. It felt a bit like running away, as it would.

The park actually had a lot more people than usual at that time, undoubtedly to view the eclipse. It was dotted with other parties, sitting atop their picnic blankets, gazing up towards the sky and eating and talking. This was a little disconcerting to Alfred. This night had always been their private night, and now this night had been intruded upon. Well, that was a bit condescending of him. Why should they miss out on a rare lunar event just so the group could mourn in a fashion done 9 times before? Yes, he'd just have to stop being greedy.

The stellar works didn't belong to them and their loss.

Actually, it wasn't exclusively their loss, either. Excluding Arthur's family and other friends, his disappearance was a well-known event in the town's recent history. The town was small and very little went on it. Crime was minimal; with only a few pickpockets and shoplifters and swindlers dotted about. A disappearance was huge deal. Especially for someone so young, with such a bright future ahead of him. And, it had signs of struggle, signs of being unwilling. This created huge ripple effects, with the possibility of a kidnapper, an abductor, in their tiny town. The local police hadn't really dealt with anything beyond carjacking and embezzlement, let alone a missing person.

A lot of the townspeople still remembered this, and knew perfectly well why the 10 were in the park together. A few sent pitying glances their way, but they did their best to ignore them. Pity couldn't bring him back, and it just seemed to make things worse.

Their small talk was slowing down to a halt, and they found themselves silent. Together, they gazed up at the moon and the stars and the unfathomable blackness. Together, they shared a night so similar yet so different. Together, they bore the loss among themselves, and the despair and pain and hopeless faded like a well-worn photograph- still there, but much less hard to see.

Then, their fragile tranquility was shattered, like so many raindrops on a wind-whispering night.  
A single text-alert sounded out, a blip of a somewhat cheerful tune signifying a new message received on Alfred's phone. The American furrowed his brow. Most people who knew him were aware of the significance of this night, and typically left him alone. Only some people at his job and a few miscellaneous others didn't know why he would prefer to be left to his own devices that night, and if they weren't close enough to know about Arthur, then they wouldn't really have the need to text him without warning on a random night.

Nevertheless, he slipped his phone out of his pocket and turned it on, eyes skimming the message he had received. His breath hitched when he began to understand the message, and he searched hungrily down the rest of it until it finished with an unknown link.  
He could feel his pulse quickening as he took in what it meant. That wasn't possible, it couldn't be! ...Could it? It was a suspicious message from an unknown number with no certification it was real. But, he began to feel his hopes rising, and desperately attempted to cram them down. It didn't work.

By now, Francis (who was sitting next to him) had noticed his strange behaviour. The Frenchman frowned in confusion, "What does it say?"  
Alfred didn't reply, so Francis leaned over to read the message. His reaction was similar to Alfred- disbelief and confusion and slight, inescapable hope.  
For what it said seemed a cruel joke on this day.

 _'Hello there.  
_ _The receiver of this message should be Alfred F Jones, and it would be much appreciated if you could pass this onto your friends, too.  
_ _I've something to say about this particular day- and, yes, it does have to do with your little friend, Arthur Kirkland.  
_ _It was a shame what happened to him. He had such a bright future ahead of him, too!  
_ _Yet, I've tracked down this article that you might find interesting. Perhaps it will help if you decide to go looking for him...?  
_ _Regards, a mere observer.'_

Below, there was a link. Alfred wasn't sure what it lead to. It was probably just a cruel trick, leading him to some sick joke regarding Arthur's disappearance. It could lead to basic information that they already know. But... Couldn't it lead to something relevant? Something that could help save Arthur? ...Something that could lead them to him?

Francis stammered, "I-It's probably just a trick. Nothing to get flustered over..."  
Alfred nervously tapped his fingers against the edge of the phone, "Yeah... Y-You're probably right."  
Regardless, Alfred still felt a strong urge to tap the link. To visit the page that probably-doesn't-but-actually-might have something to do with a 10-year-old cold case.

By now, everyone else had noticed this curious behaviour and looked on to see what the message said. None of them weren't shaken.  
The American tried for a nervous grin, "Heh... What a s-stupid prank. I'm going to look... Just... To see."  
Before anyone could object, Alfred thumbed the unknown link on the screen. It opened up to his web browser, loading up an undisclosed website. After a few seconds of whatever-it-was loading up, they found themselves on a blog post, on some skeptic, conspiracy website on the dusty corners of the net. It seemed recent, only 2 or 3 months old. Alfred was about to make some remark on how dumb it was, until he read the title.

 _'The Strange Case of the September 27th Disappearances'_

His hand started shaking, and he almost dropped the phone. Disappearances, as in, more than one? Someone other than Arthur had disappeared on the 27 of September? ...Or maybe even more?  
Before he could second-guess anything, he began to read it, fervently gathering up all the information in an attempt to make some sense out of all of this.

 _'So, this conspiracy is pretty popular, but most websites are really outdated, so I'm going to make a master-post of all the old info, plus some new stuff.  
_ _Basically, this all started on September 27, 2005. In California, a 15-year-old named Arthur Kirkland went missing in the small town he and his family were staying in (they moved there from England). Already, this raises some red flags. I mean, this town was really, really, tiny, and basically no extreme crimes existed there_ at all. _But, one night, Arthur goes missing, with basically no evidence except some signs of a struggle in his house._

 _Skip to 2006. These two guys living in Australia, who were both around 15, disappear. They're called Jett Kirra and Kaelin Takarei (Jett's from Australia but Kaelin's from New Zealand). And, it's on the exact same day as Arthur. Oh, and these two knew each other and were friends. So, you're probably already really skeptical about this, but there's more..._

 _In 2007, a 17-year-old named Heracles Karpusi goes missing in Greece, on the same day. In 2008, an 18-year-old named Emma Maes (who lived in Belgium), also goes missing on the 27th. Roderich Edelstein goes missing next in 2009, at 19, and in the USA (he used to live in Austria, but he moved). In 2010, Lin Xiao-Mei and Xiao Chun Li (living in Hong Kong- with Mei having moved from Taiwan) disappear, at 20 years old and knowing each other well. Toris Laurinaitis from Lithuania goes missing in 2011, at 21. Next, Emil Steilsson (from Iceland but living in the USA) disappears, at about 21. Im Yong Soo from South Korea is next, at about 23. Finally, in 2014, a 20-year-old name Angelique La Mer, who lived in Seychelles, disappears._

 _Now, this is a lot of information, so I'll condense it.  
2005: Arthur Kirkland, 15, USA, California (moved from England)  
2006: Jett Kirra and Kaelin Takarei, both 15, Australia (Kaelin moved from New Zealand), knew each other  
2007: Heracles Karpusi, 17, Greece  
2008: Emma Maes, 18, Belgium  
2009: Roderich Edelstein, 19, USA (moved from Austria)  
2010: Lin Xiao-Mei and Xiao Chun Li, both 20, Hong Kong (Mei moved from Taiwan), knew each other  
2011: Toris Laurinaitis, 21, Lithuania  
2012: Emil Steilsson, 21, USA (moved from Iceland)  
2013: Im Yong Soo, 23, South Korea  
2014: Angelique La Mer, 20, Seychelles  
_

 _This is an obvious pattern. Okay, so 3 people were taken from the USA. Arthur, from California, and Roderich and Emil (whose states I don't know). Twice did two people disappear, and both times they were in the same country and knew each other. The ages differ, but they usually follow a pattern- as the years progress, they generally get bigger. It is more males then females, with 9 males and 3 females._

 _Whatever this is, it's huge. I would go into what could be the cause, but a lot of skilled people have already covered that. I'm just here stating the facts for you to think upon. If the pattern keeps on, then there should be another one this year, on the 27th. It could be from any country.'_

Once he had finished reading it, Alfred couldn't believe what he was seeing. This couldn't be real, could it...? In a desperate attempt to prove it wrong, he hopelessly googled some of the so-called victims. Jett and Kaelin, real. Taking a shaky breath, he continued. Heracles, real. Emma, real. Roderich, real (and had been living in Oregon, which the article didn't feel the need to explain). Before he could continue, he put the phone down in an attempt to steady himself. He realised that tears were running down his face. This was all fake, it was all a hoax! It had to be... It must... Be...

The others were just as shocked, if not more, as him. They couldn't believe it, no... It _was_ impossible. They still hadn't said anything else, as if not acknowledging the issue made it magically disappear.  
With only a tiny doubt in his heart, Alfred slowly googled the rest. Mei and Leon, real. Toris, real. Emil, real (and had been living in Washington). Yong Soo, real. Angelique.

Real.

Heaving a sob, Alfred dropped the phone. Its screen cracked and instantly powered off, seemingly broken.

They all sat in shocked silence. Arthur's disappearance... It was so much bigger than they ever could've thought. So much larger... So much more terrifying. But... Was that hope? Cradled weakly in their fearful hearts? If... If there was so much more, then there was room for an investigation right? Room for a look-see into this mystery, room for an analysis. Room... Room for a possibility. A possibility that, their friend, Arthur Kirkland was still alive. Heart still beating. Still alive.

Still not dead.

There is a time in everyone's life in which they must determine their fate, between two equally huge possibilities. Whether they are aware of this depends on the circumstances. It may be at the very start or very end, or right in the middle. It may be as something small as deciding which way to take home, or something as large as whether or not to murder someone. This was that moment, resonating within them. This was that choice, shared between 10 people, at one place, under a bright, bright sky.

Truly, to ignore this was to be condemning Arthur to whatever fate awaited him. It was just running away. It was as real as actual murder. But, if they were to take action... Then, what would happen to them? Would they spend years on this breadcrumb trail, just to find out Arthur was dead? Would they be killed themselves, or captured? How much were they willing to give? How much of their life? How much of their dreams and aspirations and achievements?

Slowly, they all looked at each other. This was it. This was that moment. The moment that had been coming since Arthur had been cruelly torn out of their lives in a single night.

Would they betray Arthur, or would they hurt themselves?  
Their eyes held the answer.

They were all taking the long way home.

* * *

 _"It's easy to forget that most of your memories happened in places that are still around,  
the walls mostly unchanged,  
with even some of the same people,  
who carry on in your absence.  
But the world you once knew,  
and the people you still remember,  
have long since moved on,  
replaced by so many others who passed through these doors._

 _We just want to mark our time here,  
to keep the rooms and the memories alive.  
And if our houses are haunted,  
it'll be because we're haunting them ourselves,  
as if there was ever such a thing as unfinished business." _-John Koenig, Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows

* * *

 **Well, that was fun. Plot twists. A few tropes. A quote.**

 **I can't wait to see your reactions~!**

 **Hope you enjoyed... ;)**


	4. 3- How To Plan a Roadtrip

**Salutations~!**

 ***pokes head out*  
Hey ther-  
*is shot*  
**

 **OKAY OKAY I CAN EXPLAIN! MY COMPUTER AND WIFI AND SCREEN ALL BROKE IN THE SAME WEEK AND I KNOW THAT SOUNDS RIDICULOUS BUT IT HAPPENED PLEASE DON'T SHOOT ME AGAIN OR I'LL SHOOT DOWN YOUR HOPES AND DREAMS ALONG WITH ALL THESE CHARAC-  
**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

Chapter 4

Tracking down a kidnapper was plenty harder than it seemed in movies.  
Firstly, even though it was much, much more than they would've possibly dreamed of before, there was still little evidence. They had attempted a bit more research on the conspiracy, but most of it was just mindless speculation, so they had given up reasonably fast.  
Looking up 'September 27 2015' had landed them an extremely recent news story. In Spanish. Despite the foreign language- they had deducted (with a little bit of creativity) that another male, Antonio Fernandez-Carriedo, had gone missing. This only worried them more- extra evidence meant extra chances of a proper case, and not just a line of sickeningly-humourous similar kidnappings and copy-cats.

They were all still extremely shaken. Shaken to the core. But, they had to do this... For Arthur. For their dear, lost friend.  
For their own twisted need to rid the lack of closure.

Yet, what does one do when caught in a situation like this? They all had jobs, homes, lives... Would they just throw them away so easily? It wasn't as if a professional ice hockey player, or a restaurant's head chef, or an in-demand doctor could just take a little holiday. How would Matthew, Yao, Gilbert, and all the others just leave? Besides, even if they do take their little supply of vacation days, they may not last. Who knows how long this might go on? Days? Weeks? Months? ...Years?  
It was all so laughable. Here they were, willing to throw away everything they've worked for, to look for friend who has been missing 10 whole years, and was probably...

No. He wasn't dead- at least not in their minds. As long as there was possibility, there was hope.

All they needed was Hope.

* * *

Two weeks, they had decided.  
They would give themselves two weeks.

They had two weeks to prove that this wasn't a cold trail. They had two weeks to find evidence substantial enough to let the police handle the rest. They had two weeks, and the clock was ticking down already.

After a lot of friendly (and not-so-friendly) negotiating, they had all managed to land a break from their ever-relevant jobs. Their excuses weren't 'there's a tiny scrap of vague evidence that my childhood friend who disappeared 10 years ago is still alive', but rather holidays and breaks-they-needed-so-much-the-stress-was-just-getting-to-them-they-only-needed-two-weeks-please.  
There goes their proper holidays.

But even after their rather tiring bout of arguing and tempting and convincing, they still didn't really have a proper plan. Where to start? They only had two weeks, and so little evidence, plus-

By the time they had finished all these phone calls and fretting and doubting, it was rather late into the night, the supermoon already well gone. Only when Ivan nervously pointed this out did they actually get back on track.

After some timid discussion, they had decided to go back to Yao's house- the only one who still lived in the town- and look at all this under lamplight and other resources that might be a bit easier to use inside rather than under the ethereal night-heavens.  
Two people hesitated to leave the stars behind, both with radically different reasons.

* * *

Before they even consider a plan, an uneasy tone took over the atmosphere of Yao's house. It was a rather nice place- all cosy and warm and homely- but that still didn't distract from the horrid topic at hand.

"...So. What are we going to do...?" Francis was the one to nervously start off.  
Alfred looked down, "Um. We don't really have that much evidence to think about, or much time... So, I suppose we could maybe start with the people who lived in the USA...?"

After a while, they had managed to formulate a soft-of plan.  
Firstly, they would pay a visit to the people who had been close to Roderich and Emil. From them, they would probably talk to them about what happened in detail, and maybe even swap ideas, if they were open-minded...?

After a little research, they had found out a rather close childhood friend to Roderich- Elizabeta Héderváry- who owned a diner in Oregon. Just a little stop by, a bit of questioning and other chat, and then (if they had found nothing huge), they would move on to Washington.

Emil was a bit harder to track down- oh, dear, all this felt a bit creepy- but they had eventually discovered (with a tad bit of improvisation), that Emil had had an older brother by the name of Lukas. They also had three other friends who seemed pretty close, so they'd help with their little investigation, too. Curiously, they were all from Scandinavian countries.

And after that... Well, there wasn't really an after that, despite, by then, they'd still be way under their time limit. By then, they'd have found a proper link that they could hand over to the police...

Or they were going to turn up with nothing.

* * *

One day they spent planning a hasty trip. They did a lot of creative thinking, as none of them had planned to extend this trip to two weeks, and had only packed a few changes of clothes.

Yao's car was being used- with only slight complaints- and fuel and food would be payed for in alternating turns, as was for wherever they would stay. Everything felt so rushed when it didn't need to be, but...  
They wanted to save their friend, even if it took away from them. Even if it took away from them considerably.

One day, extremely soon, they were going to get to the bottom of this, no matter what- and they were slightly scared for it.

* * *

 ***is stabbed instead*  
AHHHHHH! *sobs*  
**

 **THIS CHAPTER IS SO SHORT AND SO LATE HOLY OH MY GOSH THERE'S TOO MUCH FORESHADOWING AND NO SUBSTANCE THIS IS HORRIBLE I'M SORRY I DIDN'T EVEN EDIT IT THERE'S BASICALLY NO DIALOGUE I RUSHED THIS OUT TOO FAST BECAUSE OF MY GUILTY CONSCIENCE WHO CARES IF I DON'T HAVE AN UPLOADING SCHEDULE I'VE STILL SINNED-**

 **Hope you enjoyed! (despite my lack of quality and tardiness)**


	5. 4- The Girl With Special Eyes

**Salutations~!**

 **I am back from my self-proclaimed, too-long holiday from this site. Sorry.  
I was getting stressed, with all the pressure of updating regularly, plus I was just running out of inspiration. The last chapter was extremely weak, and when I read it over I knew I had to take a little break.**

 **Anyway, I am back with the most amount of inspiration I could muster. Let's get this show on the road, both figuratively and literally, as I attempt to energize myself via KagePro.**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

Chapter 5

A road trip is usually a pleasant thing- that is, if you're not looking for a long-missing friend with little evidence.  
Most of them had been unable to sleep that night. Alfred had done a little research on the missing people to see if they were connected in any way, but the little information he could access through news articles and shady conspiracy websites wasn't enough. Francis had looked for information on those whose relatives they were visiting. Roderich Edelstein- the Austrian-who-had-moved-to-Oregon, had a childhood friend called Elizabeta. She owned a popular restaurant, so she was easy enough to find. The Icelandic-who-had-moved-to-Washington, Emil Steilsson, had a half-brother called Lukas Nielssen and three other friends. This was only found out through news articles. Luckily, Lukas was a little-known author, although small, and owned a website. If they found nothing at Elizabeta's restaurant, they would comment on there and ask for a meet-up.

This all held an unnerving similarity to stalking, but they weren't breaking the law, and it was for good intentions, so Alfred reckoned it was fine.  
Hopefully.

The others were frustratingly useless, and found themselves doing knowingly fruitless research, pacing around, or attempting to sleep. Ludwig had pondered over whether they should contact the police. But, Alfred was stubbornly insisting they shouldn't. It just came down to the fact that he trusted no-one but himself and his friends. And...

They had been useless for far too long. It was stupid, dangerous and brash not to contact professionals...  
But, they wanted to feel as if they had saved Arthur, not just the police.

So, they found themselves driving to Oregon. Yao's car couldn't fit ten people, but Alfred always drove on their meet-ups, so they split up in two cars. Yao, Kiku, Ivan, Gilbert and Ludwig in Yao's, and Alfred, Matthew, Francis, Feliciano and Lovino in Alfred's. They had set off at around 8, eager to get on the road as quickly as possible.

In Alfred's vehicle, it quickly became apparent that this was not going to be an easy trip. The American had put on some 'tunes', much to the exasperation of the others. They had only gone through a few annoyingly catchy pop songs before Matthew, the other person in the front of the car, gave in to the others requests and his own desires, turning off the music. Alfred would've complained, but he knew that, if even the Canadian was so annoyed as to stop the tunes, then he wouldn't get very far arguing.

There was a tense silence for a few minutes, which seemed to be even worse than the horrible music. So, Feliciano had hurriedly started a conversation. Small talk. It was a basic but effective distraction, never failing at their yearly gatherings, and not now, either. After a bit of talking, they permitted the radio, but made sure it was a station that was to all their liking. Which took a while.  
A similar thing had happened in Yao's car, but with baffingly obscure indie music.

After stopping for lunch at a cafe, and driving for more hours, they finally arrived in the town that Roderich had lived in. By then, it was getting too late to have a proper conversation with Elizabeta. Her restaurant doubled as a bar, so it was open late, but they didn't want to talk about disappearing friends and possible evidence so late, no matter how eager they were.  
They settled for the night at a motel- there was enough funds between them to easily afford hotel rooms, but the town wasn't big enough to have one. Also, Alfred claimed it 'really felt like they were on a case', like in _Supernatural_ or another paranormal American show.

That night was tense and quiet.

* * *

In the morning, they didn't hesitate, getting ready and out the door as quickly as possible. By the time they arrived at Elizabeta's cafe, it had only just opened.  
Exchanging glances, they paused for a second outside the humble building. Their fate was before them- either Elizabeta somehow had information on the disappearances, or there was only one chance left.

It wasn't as if it would find them.

They entered the currently rather deserted cafe. The owner looked up at them as the bell rung, clearly rather surprised at such a large group of customers so early on in the day. After a tense beat of hesitation, the Hungarian approached the 10. Her long brown hair was tied back messily in a ponytail, and her bright green eyes were determined yet slightly welcoming. She wore a simple green blouse and tan pants, eyebrow raised at the inexplicably large amount of men who had just arrived at our cafe.  
Maybe it would've been less awkward to leave some people at the motel. But, they were all wanting to solve this mystery, and it was doubtful anyone would volunteer to stay behind.

After a bit of small talk and getting comfortable, they found themselves seated. There were a few assorted pastries and sweets among them, as well as Alfred sipping on his necessary morning coffee. Soon, other customers began arriving, and their conspicuous numbers became a little less noticeable.  
Of course, it would be a bit awkward to go up to someone and ask them about their missing childhood friend after you just met them. They were some of the most relevant people who could testify to that statement. The press needed to learn some new techniques.

And, it wasn't like they could waltz into a cafe and not buy anything. That would just be rude. And, politeness turned into relaxation, and a rather awkward time when it's been too long to ask Elizabeta because now she's busy-  
Maybe they should've thought this through a little more. If anything, they should wait until much later in the day when it's settled down and they can continue their conversation even after the shop has closed... But, they simply weren't patient enough for that.

Simply put, they were in one of those mundane conundrums that all boiled down to a lack of convenience. Usually caused by yourself.  
Alfred would probably go onto to his phone in an effort to distract himself, but, well... His phone was broken. He had borrowed Mattie's when he had needed to call his boss and ask for a two-week break, but even he could sense the unwavering tense mood.

Suddenly, Elizabeta stomped up to them. She slammed a folded piece of paper onto the table, and whispered urgently to them, "I know why you're here. Come back once I've closed- we can talk then."

* * *

They weren't supposed to be here. The shadow thing thought so, at least.

When she first saw them, though, that feeling had gone through her. The one she's felt since she was little. At Roderich, and at that little boy, and at the girl with the blood on her face.  
At the shadow when she's alone.

It tells her things. It wants her to know things, or it simply is trying to butter her up. Elizabeta doesn't trust it. Of course, most people would have common sense enough not to trust things in the dark with dangerous words of times past. If not for one thing, Elizabeta would've gotten psychiatric help. Most people don't see shadows that promise of things. Especially if it was just after a close friend's disappearance. Especially if it didn't go away.

You shouldn't trust every single monster that tells you your eyes are special.

And the things it tells certainly are odd. It tells her that the 10 weren't supposed to find out until a year away. A whole year. Well, actually, 364 days. It's really the 27th of September, 2016. According to the thing. Apparently, there was an unexpected variable. Someone- or possibly, something- who was supposed to be just an observer, who broke an oath.  
She doesn't know why it tells her all this. She doesn't understand. She doesn't want to understand.

But, she can't help but ignore all forms of her common sense. Why did it feel less like a curse and more like a gift? Even though she's resisted the deal it wants to make with her, it's there... Most people don't get a chance like this. Maybe, just maybe, she'll make the deal. Probably not. It's good to have your options open. Good to be able to bring back your childhood friend.

All it needed was her eyes. All it needed was her eyes, and something else.

* * *

It was an odd day, awaiting the talk with Elizabeta.

It went fast, and slow. It felt off. All they were doing was impatiently roaming around the little village. They had given up on all that research. Besides, Elizabeta's vague statement had affected more than they dare admit.

The piece of paper was probably the most curious part. It held a desperate scribble of some sort of monster. It was almost childish, it's body mostly composed of scrawled-on pencil lead. But, there was something simply uncanny about it. A feeling, like they were on the verge of something very, very important.

Something bigger than they could ever imagine just for a childhood friend, he who they desperately wanted back. They didn't understand the stakes, here. All except one of the 10.

* * *

It sings of his importance in more ways then one.  
Arthur Kirkland.

He's so important-he's so important-he's so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so

very

important

The girl with the special eyes sees things she doesn't want to. It hurts her. She cries when she sees the things. The shadow said she could give it up, and gain back a doomed one, at the same time. It would be the perfect deal.

If not for the extra variable.

So, she resists temptation and looks after the same cafe everyday and wonders about why they made a certain exception for Emil Steilsson.  
She laughs and weeps when she looks upon the little _boy_ among them. He's broken. But, somehow, there is that morality left. She wonders if he'll be able to resist the girl with the blood on her face and the little boy.

She wants to be blind to it all. Please take away my sight. I didn't want to see.

Let me live.  
I want him back.

I don't care for Arthur Kirkland, but he's more important than me. I must be a fool. I must be dim. I must...

...

The 10 are so fate-bound to Arthur! I can't handle it anymore! They've increased everything, especially _that_ one with the missing two, and the stars, and the smile. He is not the one who sees the girl with the blood on his face, but it seems anyone who dares look up at the night sky is doomed.

I can't handle this anymore!  
When they've gone, you can take away my sight.  
You can take Roderich from the otherplace.

You can take it all away.

* * *

 **diD I MENTION THERE'S A WHOLE LOT OF SUPERNATURAL STUFF IN THIS STORY?! 'Cause there is. Sorry for not telling you sooner. The next installments will have it as their genre, but this one isn't very heavy with it. It's mostly just foreshadowing.**

 **I just foreshadowed, like, the entire plot. I have no regrets.**

 **((The change from third person to first was intentional. You see, about a year ago, I discovered a very interesting thing about being a writer. You can do whatever you want. Literally. No-one cares if you switch tenses like a mental patient or be so vague that it hurts to read. Just keep some semblance of purpose and meaning and professionalism, and you can basically get away with anything. Well, not anything. Most things.))**

 **Hope you enjoyed!**


	6. 5-1- Lies and Slander

**Salutations!**

 **I am very sorry for my inconsistent uploading schedule. You'll have to bear with me and hopefully I will improve.**

 **Enjoy.**

* * *

Chapter 6

When Alfred entered the cafe, he felt something uncanny.  
There had always been something like that with Alfred. When he entered places, when he met people. Mostly the latter- in fact, when he had met his friends, it had been there quite prominently. But different for each. Like, colours, but with sensations.  
The colour-sensations had been nothing more than a strange feeling, passing in a second. Except Arthur.

Arthur's perception was a deep green in sensation and lingered far longer. It was deeper and broader than he could even begin to perceive, so even though the twinge was more-different-than-usual, he didn't give it much more than a little thought.  
But there was something far different about Arthur, and deep down in his gut, it made him scared. Only slightly, though. Not enough for him to be properly conscious of it.

So, Alfred wasn't too shocked to feel it. In fact, he had been expecting it a little- his senses of strangeness had begun to become more and more frequent leading up to and on this trip.  
When they entered the quiet cafe, Elizabeta was sitting alone at one of the tables, head bowed. She seemed so lonely... ...and defeated somehow? Alfred awkwardly shuffled up to her, followed by their ridiculously large group.  
She looked up and stared right into Alfred's eyes as if challenging him. The intensity of the focused glare made him hesitate, wondering if they had done something wrong, or had made a mistake to come here. But she didn't express any complaints, instead saying, "Sit down. This may be a long talk."

There were so many mixed emotions around Elizabeta that Alfred was slightly worried, but he sat down before her nonetheless, accompanied by the other nine.  
After a brief period of silence, he couldn't handle the tension anymore.  
"Uh... Why did you tell us to come here? Do you know about our... ...circumstances?"  
He found that his inquiry was more eloquent than he would normally put it, but wasn't an average situation.  
"Yes, I do. You ten are here because the anniversary of Arthur Kirkland's disappearance recently passed. You came across some strange information, and decided to investigate by talking to me and four others, in hopes that we, also as people who had loved ones be abducted on the 27th of September."

Her summary of recent events had been so accurate that it was highly uncomfortable, and Alfred found himself squirming in his seat.  
Yao had the bravery to continue, "Well, firstly, how do you know so much?"

"You really do have a small sense of the world, don't you?"  
Elizabeta Héderváry replied with a question.  
"H-Huh?" said the original question-asker.  
"It's just that... You're coming in here for answers. Don't you think I might want answers, too?"  
"Well... Of course. It's just that you just said quite accurate summary of our circumstances... How did you know this?"  
The Chinese man asked.

And the Hungarian looked as if she wanted to cry, laugh and scoff all at the same time.  
"Alright, I will answer your questions for now. I know of you because I was told."  
"By who?" was the query Matthew quickly inputted.  
"Someone mysterious texted you, right? That happened to me, as well. They linked me to an article. And they also told me of you. They told me that you'd me coming, soon, and that I should talk to you."  
The Canadian didn't seem quite satisfied with that answer.

"Um... Okay. So... Do you know anything else? Like... What was that picture?" said a mildly disappointed Yao.  
"That's what the person texted me. Something similar, at least. My phone broke. I dropped it out of shock."  
It was like she was reading what had happened to them from an invisible book.  
"I'm sorry... I don't know much. I asked you to come here because I thought you knew something. I-I wanted to..."

Crocodile tears...?  
Alfred F. Jones couldn't tell the difference anymore- and though that delphic girl was so awfully suspicious, he couldn't help but trust her with an unconscious and unwilling hope that she was telling the truth.

All of them, in that cafe, knew she was aware of more.  
They sat in silence, almost daring each other to act upon it.  
Her eyes told them to leave her in peace, that they didn't want to know.  
And it came down to an Alfred who wanted a fraction more, and opened his mouth to ask a question.

"Are you sure... You don't know any more?"  
And the girl with sad eyes replied half-heartedly with a "I'm sure."  
They weren't convinced.

"Please..."  
It was an unexpected plea, coming from someone who wanted so much more. Feliciano Vargas had uttered a single word, eyes averted, nervous and unsure.  
Why was he brave in that instant?

* * *

And the girl with those sad eyes replied.  
"I'm sorry... I can't tell you any more. You'll figure out the rest on your own, trust me. Because... If I tell you, more people then you could ever know will be affected. So, could you please go on to where Emil Steilsson once was? It's likely you'll find answers there, but if you don't, come back to me and the odds will be tested.  
Also... One more thing. Could you be brave? It's bigger than you know... Or could even expect... So it's best if you be brave, and don't lose sight of what's truly important. I know that seems so strange and ambiguous, but I can't risk saying more."  
Those words undoubtedly came from the heart, and everyone in that cafe knew it.

They left her.  
She followed them with her eyes as they left, and they so full of so many emotions that it was terribly tragic.  
Elizabeta Héderváry had given them confusion and lies. She had told them what they had already knew and had simply dashed their expectations. But, amongst all that, there was something hidden at the heart of it all.

Curiousity had pulled them into all this, mostly, but it was fading and something was left, undoubtedly.

It was hope.

* * *

 **Those pandora's jar parallels...**

 **Elizabeta is purposely OOC if you didn't pick that up.  
Sorry for the short chapter. I haven't been feeling so good lately and this is all I managed. Also, it fit better with the pacing of the story.**

 **Hope you enjoyed.**


	7. 5-2- Look to the Past

**Salutations.**

 **Quick update because I realised the last chapter is kinda unfinished.  
Flash-backs are kinda lame but still add to the story and are low-maintenance. Trust me, these ones are important. ...For characterization, haha. ^^;;**

 **I've been going kinda crazy with school work! Term 4 just started over here and there's already so much to do... Your American school year is whacked up, you know? We start at February and end in December...**

 **Also, anyone else currently obsessed with Hamilton? I just can't stop listening... I know nothing about American history except what I learnt from it yet I'm addicted.**

 **Anyway, to the story.**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

Chapter 7

Sixteen Years Ago

Elizabeta couldn't sleep.  
After all, her friends were over! Mellie and Phoebe and Grace and Roderich. He was the only boy, but he didn't mind. Roderich didn't really hang out with the other boys, anyway, because of some-reason-or-other, probably involving piano. He played piano a lot, and seemed to judge people who didn't play an instrument...  
She whispered, "Are you guys still awake?"  
Phoebe replied immediately, "Of course! It's still only, like, 8."  
Grace groaned, "That's too late... Why are you still talking?"  
Mellie's quiet yet cheerful giggle could be heard, "I don't wanna sleep."  
Of course, Roderich replied with a disgruntled, "I'm trying to sleep. Be quiet."

He wasn't all that intimidating, especially so when he was half-asleep. But, Elizabeta's mum was one of those who couldn't condone talking late at night, and they didn't want to get in trouble, as they had last time over.  
So after a hushed warning from Elizabeta, they were all quiet, and the Austrian achieved the silence he desired.  
Roderich really was her best friend. She was usually quite boy-ish (as a nine-year-old would think of the term), and Roderich oft bore with her. Her female friends could get a little disgruntled, but he didn't really mind.

She dreamt that night.

* * *

"It makes you wish you could look around with fresh eyes, and feel things just as powerfully as you did when you felt them for the first time. Before expectation, before memory." -John Koenig, Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows.

* * *

Eight Years Ago

Elizabeta couldn't sleep.  
She didn't have the time to sleep! After all, this English paper was due tomorrow, and that Science assessment was due in a couple of days so she should probably get started on it, and she was considering studying for the Maths test tomorrow even though she already had, thoroughly. There wasn't enough information crammed in her head yet, despite the fact it was so full it was almost bursting.

And she angrily typed up the themes of Russian literature, her phone buzzed. She ignored it, knowing that whoever was attempting to talk to her in such a stressful time should back off and come back later if it was so important.  
But, they just wouldn't stop, and after the 11th consecutive buzz, she grabbed her phone and flipped it open violently, challenging whoever dared to interrupt her hasty typing.

Of course, it was Roderich.  
He had absolutely no sense of other people, and was probably texting her because he had just finished all the assessments in A+ condition, and had played La Campanella five times in a row, and was sipping tea with his pinky up in an attempt to be sophisticated.

...She was being a bit too harsh. Roderich was snobbish and a hypocrite, but at least he had standards. And was unexpectedly smart. And knew quite a fair bit about life (except how people are).  
Elizabeta smiled a little when she realised they were mostly passive-aggressive words of encouragement hidden in a snobbish deluge. She snorted and replied, before getting back to her work.

"Stop interrupting me! You have better things to do, like playing piano in a condescending manner."

She didn't read the reply because she already knew how he was going to reply. What a hypocrite.

* * *

"We should consider the idea that youth is not actually wasted on the young. That their dramas are no more grand than they should be. That their emotions make perfect sense, once you adjust for inflation." -John Koenig, Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows

* * *

Six Years Ago

Elizabeta couldn't sleep.  
She just couldn't.  
Not after what had happened.

Tears were in her half-lidded eyes as she stared at the darkness.  
Roderich... Her childhood friend. Someone she had trusted and had all those joyful times with...  
Was gone.

Somewhere she couldn't see and somewhere dark and heavy.  
She knew that, even if it wasn't death. It was somewhere where suffering was commonplace and where safety was an illusion.  
She didn't know how.  
Elizabeta had been seeing things, lately. She had seen little things, at first. A flash of what she was going to have for breakfast the next day. A flash of a penny she'd find on the ground during the day. Nothing major. Just enough to stick in her mind, but little enough to be dismissed.

But then it had come all at once, a terrifying flash of her precious friend, Roderich. She had seen his eyes, wide open and full of terror, and with more fear and suffering then she'd thought she'd ever come across. It was something out of a horror movie, but a thousand times worse because it was him, and she was somehow certain it was real. She knew those eyes would stick with her forever.  
She had been so shaken by the experience that she had ran all the way to his house.  
And he hadn't been there.

Now she saw more flashes.  
Of something bigger, that scared her. Poor, poor Arthur Kirkland...

Then something had come out of the dark.  
And told her rules.  
And offered her a deal, something she would've accepted with no hesitation if not for that extra variable.

Her eyes saw too much and she was so, so afraid.  
No-one should be able to look through the keyholes and cracks in reality, those imperfect places that were everywhere but nowhere in most eyes, no-one should be forced to rip open the seams to reveal something even more horrifying than anything else...

 _Oh, Roderich._  
 _Sh-should I...? Am I so awfully selfish, Roderich?_

 _Just because I see a little more...  
I want to make a deal with the devil._

* * *

"But there are times when you look up and realize that the plot of your life doesn't make sense to you anymore. You thought you were following the arc of the story, but you keep finding yourself immersed in passages you don't understand." -John Koenig, Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows

* * *

 **All the quotes are from the same guy but in different circumstances... Check him out, if you haven't.**

 **Hope you enjoyed!**


	8. 6- Talks of What's To Come

**Salutations!**

 **Help me- Yuri on Ice had taken ahold and won't let go.**

 **This chapter is me attempting to characterize 10 already well-established characters. Warning: lots of dialogue.**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

Chapter 8

Disquiet was in the air after the visit to Elizabeta. Apparently, they were to find out things by themselves... But it really didn't seem so. Emil Steilsson's friends were now their only hope, and a lot was riding on them.  
Alfred mindlessly did a little more (legal) research on them.  
Lukas Nielsen- Emil's Norwegian half-brother and small time author. Mathias Køhler- childhood friend, unknown occupation. Tino Väinämöinen- close friend, doctor. Berwald Oxenstierna- close friend, unknown occupation.  
This was all he could find, so he decided to visit Lukas's website. His business email was there, and Alfred hoped that Lukas would still reply to an urgent email about his missing half-brother, even if it wasn't about business.

 **'INFORMATION REGARDING EMIL STIELSSON**

 **Dear Lukas Nielsen,  
I am aware that this is your business email, but I did not know how else to contact you.  
My name is Alfred F. Jones, and I have a bit of information regarding Emil Stielsson. It's not much, and I also have something else to say.  
Have you heard of Arthur Kirkland? He is a childhood friend of mine who disappeared 10 years ago on the 27th of September.  
Sound familiar? Well, many others have all disappeared on this exact same day, every year since 2005- when Arthur disappeared. You may already know this, and if you have any information about it, it would be appreciated. If not, we can look together.**

 **I have already talked to someone else who had a loved one disappear on the 27th. She claimed that this goes very deep, much more than we would think, but she refused to give me any information for various personal reasons, which I can explain in more detail if you ask. So, would you consider meeting up sometime to discuss this?  
Keep in mind I have 9 other friends who were also close to Arthur. This may be daunting to you, but trust me, they are all good people and will not disrupt anything if we meet up.**

 **Sincerely, Alfred F. Jones.'**

He decided that taking a formal approach would be best when addressing Lukas, as they didn't really know each other and it would be best to paint him in a good light. He only hoped that it wouldn't make him seem too cold.  
Matthew noticed him staring at his laptop screen, focused, and walked over, glancing at the display.  
"Ah, you're writing the email?"  
"Yup!"  
"Didn't know you were so good at being formal..."  
"How do you think I got employed by Marvel?"

Matthew looked at the screen with an unreadable expression for a few seconds, then asked a question.  
"Do you think... Do you think Arthur's alive?"  
It was somewhat unexpected, but not really uncalled for.  
"I do think so."  
"I... I'm a bit worried. That these 'clues' will lead to nothing, and all of this will just lead to hurt. I really do hope that he's alive, and this is for something- that's why I'm here... But, maybe we shouldn't think so decisively..."  
Alfred stared into the screen without really looking. He thought for a little, then sent the email.  
"Yes, but... If we don't hope, how will we believe that... Believe that he's alive? If we think he's alive, won't our actions turn out more impactful?"

"...I think you may be right. But we should be a little cautious."  
Matthew frowned, and picked up the half-finished book he had abandoned.

* * *

Feliciano was staring at something, and Lovino slunk over to him, initiating a private conversation in Italian.  
"Brother... What are you looking at?"  
"Ah, Lovi..."  
Feliciano showed the Polaroid that he held in his hands. It was of Arthur, and if that didn't pack enough emotional impact... It was _the_ photo. The photo they had shown on TV channels and missing posters, and was framed in a quiet and solemn corner of the Kirkland household. It represented everything, all that they had left behind and were trying to get back.  
Arthur was smiling in the photo. He looked so happy...

"Oh... Feliciano, looking at things like that will make you sad."  
"What better time to, then?"  
"We're about to find him! You shouldn't be sad."  
"I wish I was as decisive as you, Lovi..."  
"What do you mean?"  
"Is it bad that I doubt this? Is it bad that I... I'm not sure if we'll find him?"  
"Of course not, idiot! I'm the bad one, for being so sure."  
"...Huh?"  
"If I completely think that it'll be okay, I'm just going to get hurt if we don't find him. But, with you, you'll be fine either way."  
"But-"  
"Shut up. Don't feel bad for not having enough hope. Hope is stupid, anyway."  
"...Thank you."

Feliciano smiled a little, and Lovino nodded.  
"Good. Keeping think that way, Feli."

* * *

One of the 10 sent a certain text. The others didn't notice.

* * *

 **'Re: INFORMATION REGARDING EMIL STIELSSON**

 **Dear Alfred Jones,  
**

 **I, and my three other friends, were aware of this information. And we have more.  
How about two days from now, at our house? Our address is _(sorry guys use your imagination)_.  
Don't reply to this email. Just come or don't come.**

 **From Lukas Nielsen.'**

Lukas had replied in only a couple of hours, as if he had been expecting it. The content had been strange, too- almost completely objective and straight-to-the-point. But, it gave hope, and that was enough for them.  
After showing it to everyone, they decided to go.

* * *

 **I've decided to make the chapters shorter as it fits better with the pacing of the story.**

 **Hope you enjoyed!**


	9. 7- The Boy With Shaking Hands

**Salutations!**

 **Hey- I got someone to beta read this! 'ShutUpYourePerfect' shouted at me for writing the word 'something' and I am very grateful. I have such a ridiculous ego and am astonishingly lazy, so I never really draft my chapters. Which is a problem. The best thing I've ever written had 7 drafts. Anyway, the point is she's a huge help. Check her out!**

 **Why is it suddenly hot? I think Spring was skipped over here... Didn't even hear anything about magpies destroying people's faces. Huh.  
Well I guess it gives me an excuse to complain about global warming, so it's fine!**

 **Don't listen to Take On Me while drafting. You'll stop writing and be captivated until it's over.**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

Chapter 9

The morning was tense and quiet.  
They barely said a word to each other as they packed up and got ready to leave. Even when travelling to Washington, they weren't much for conversation.  
They reached the town that Emil had lived after midday, still enough time to visit Lukas and the others. So, after finding a motel and talking a little on what this 'information' could be, they were just about to leave for the house.

Until the unexpected occurred.

Three hesitant knocks ominously came from the door. It hushed them, sending chills through Alfred. They had only just arrived there so... For someone to know where they were, they'd have had to be following them.  
Alfred, despite his fear, silently offered to answer it, almost shaking as he approached, and tentatively opened it.

Standing before him was a frail little man, quivering and trembling, his head bowed. The man was unspeakably thin, so much so that his bones protruded from his fair skin. His hair was disheveled and matted, tear streaks were clear on his gaunt face and his eyes were wide and displaying indescribable horror- it was clear something very, very terrible had happened to him. A thick brown jacket was pulled tight around him, and it basically swallowed him, his hands grasping it firmly, as if for dear life. His hair was so blonde that it was almost white, and it made him look as if he had aged rapidly just because of the-terror-that-had-occurred, with the heavy bags under his haunted eyes adding to the effect. His hands were almost completely hidden by the long sleeves of the jacket, it looked very much as if he was hiding in it.  
The paleness of his skin, along with the shade of his hair and the bony frame, made him look much like a skeleton.

He staggered into the room without hesitation, without even asking permission. The sudden entrance of someone so fraught and sickly caught everyone off-guard, and he opened his trembling lips to say a simple, chilling phrase.  
"Please... Don't... Don't let them hurt me again."  
He stood, shaking there. Then, there was an utterance. An utterance that completely changed their views of the ashen man.  
"That... Couldn't be... Isn't that Emil Steilsson?"

In the moment, the person who had uttered such a thing was forgotten, but the phrase remained. It was confirmed by the eyes of all those within that place.  
The man before them was, indeed, Emil Steilsson. He hadn't been recognised before- not only because the photos they had poured over had been several years old, but also because of his lack of body weight and general distraught appearance.  
This sent Alfred's head spinning. Why... How could Emil just turn up at the door? An essential piece of the puzzle, a clue to Arthur's whereabouts so profound that it didn't even seem possible. Not only Arthur- the Icelandic's man was saved, now, and possibly everyone else who had gone missing on the 27th.

Everyone in the room now couldn't say or do a thing, from the huge revelation that had just occurred, so Emil took initiative and stumbled toward the wooden chair Alfred had been sitting in during their swift conversation, collapsing onto it in obvious relief.  
Only then could any of them be brave enough to ask a certain question.  
"Y-You are Emil Steilsson, right?"  
Alfred's comment felt very stupid, especially in such an enormous situation, but it was all he could manage at that moment.

"Yes, I am... And since you seem to know who I am, I-I think I've found the right place."

The declaration, and the situation in general, took a long time to process.  
In that time, they tried their best to make him comfortable. Yao went out to get him some clearly much-needed food, which he ate ravenously. He still seemed to be hungry, but didn't ask for any more food- in fact, at that point, it seemed the most he needed was moral support.  
Without saying anything beforehand, he spouted out his story.

* * *

Emil had been happy. He had been going to a good college, living with his half-brother and friends.  
Until one day they did something he didn't understand.  
The people he had trusted, the person who was of the same blood had betrayed him in a terrible way. One morning, he had woken up to find that they weren't who they used to be.  
They had said things. How much they hated him. How much they despised his very existence. How much they wished he would just die.  
And their actions proved their words.  
They had taken him somewhere secret in their very own house- somewhere even he hadn't been aware of. Where they starved him. Where they mocked him. Where, occasionally, they took out a wretched knife and cut his flesh.

Where were his real friends?  
Why had they gone in the night and been replaced by these copies?  
Why did their bodies have such cold eyes?  
Why, why, why, was his life now a living hell?  
He was so scared. Not only of the knife. But also that it was possible the people behind the knife could actually be the people he had once trusted, the people who had once protected him.

The one he couldn't believe the most was Lukas. Lukas... Had been so overprotective, had been so caring. What on this earth that caused him to pick up that wretched blade and draw his half-brother's blood?

One day, they stopped. They stopped the cutting of skin and the words.  
They had let him go. Simple as that. Just got him to leave that terrible place.  
He was going to rush to the police as fast as possible, to people he could feel protected next to. He was going to rush into the nearest populated place and find someone, anyone, to help him.  
But before he was barely out the back door they had shoved him through, somebody had grabbed him.

She had tugged him into a dark corner, and told him something hurriedly. Apparently, the police wouldn't help him. Apparently, there was only one place he could go that would save him. She shoved a piece of paper into his hands, and told him to go to the address scrawled upon it.  
Emil wouldn't have believed her. He said so- he asked her why he should trust her. She had bit her lip impatiently, and whispered, "Because I'm the one who got you out of that place."  
He had been taken aback, and asked, "How?"  
She replied, "I was in cahoots with them. I can't tell you why they wanted to do this... I convinced them to let you go. You see, I'm a double agent. Something very, very big is going on, and I was left to spy on the enemy."  
Suddenly, the woman before him became a thousand times more menacing, "That's not enough to make me believe you. For all I know, you could be making all this up. Why should I trust someone who helped me get t-tortured?"  
"Because I'm your only hope. Listen to me. If you go to the police, you're screwed. Do you have any evidence? Do you think that they would let you go without guessing you might go to the police, so they'd destroy the evidence? Law is a tricky business. If a few scars and a testimony is all you have, you won't get very far."

His limbs were shaking. Not from the cold or hurt.  
"But... They'd protect me..."  
"Emil... They are the most dangerous people imaginable, with the most numbers. The police couldn't do a thing."

He was almost in tears.  
"Why... Should I believe you?"  
"You've seen the things they'd do to their own friends- to their own blood! This is your only hope. Please believe me."  
"What's your name...?" He now was beginning to cry. Why was this happening?  
"Lien Chung. If you follow my advice, we'll meet again. I'm going to do my best to protect you."  
"Okay... W-Who belongs to this address? It's at the motel..."  
"Some people trying to find someone they love. They'll know who you are. Let them fill in the rest."  
"Alright."  
"Tell them that Arthur Kirkland lives."

Then she was gone.

* * *

 **Lien is Vietnam, by the way.**

 **Ahh, this is a huge plot point! Tell me what you think of it.**

 **Hope you enjoyed!**


	10. 8- Contrast the Cost

**Salutations!**

 **Australian school holidays! Expect more updates. If I can be bothered.**

 **Oh, boy. This is a kicker of a chapter. It's my favourite so far, both in narrative context and in how much fun it was to write. And it's rather long, just for you guys! I really hope you like it.**

 **PLEASE READ THE AUTHOR'S NOTE AT THE END.**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

Chapter 10

Lien Chung wasn't sure if what she was doing was the right thing. She had _betrayed_ them, after all- she had betrayed Hope.  
And she knew she would pay.

But she hadn't been able to sit idly by while innocents suffered, while Emil suffered. Oh, she knew that the Icelandic had so much ahead of him- so much suffering, so much cruelty. But, if she had left him there, he would've died in time, anyway. Sure, those who were doing such a thing to him would meet a painful end for doing so, but he would undoubtedly die. This option had more chances, more possible paths to take. If they were very, very clever, maybe Emil and her could be saved- and, in the best-case scenario...

Mei and Li Xiang, too.

She knew she was selfish for thinking such, because if that were to happen, a lot more agony would occur. But she couldn't help herself from thinking- what if Emil could save them? He was strong, stronger than he knew.  
It was just a dream, though. She was aware that the chances of them being alive were low, yet, she couldn't stop herself from hoping.

* * *

It was difficult to analyse the situation fully, so Kiku narrowed it down to some factual points, assuming that Emil's testimony was true.  
1\. Emil Steilsson had been captured by his half-brother and close friends, then kept in captivity and tortured by them for three years.  
2\. They had recently released him for no given reason.  
3\. A girl by the name of Lien Chung approached Emil and claimed that she had been working with his torturers, and that she had been the one who freed him.  
4\. Lien then convinced Emil not to go to the police and instead come to the 10 who were looking for Arthur.  
5\. Then... She claimed that Arthur was alive.

It was very difficult to digest. Therefore he only used the facts, because that's all he could rely on.

* * *

Everyone couldn't handle it. Everyone was going insane and attempting to reason with the giant revelations that were lain before them.

Emil was partaking in much-deserved rest. The way he pulled the giant blankets around him as if they were a shield was slightly unnerving. This, clearly, was a man that had been pushed to his absolute limits, who had been broken, beyond repair.  
He clearly needed to go to a hospital, but they couldn't bring themselves to take him just yet. Maybe it was selfish and folly, but they couldn't just let such a huge clue slip through their fingers like that.

And then there was what Lien had said.  
"They are the most dangerous people imaginable, with the most numbers."  
Who?  
They seemed to have stumbled across something immensely huge, that they couldn't begin to comprehend, that defied all current knowledge and expanded into a impossible situation they only had a few ideas of.

It was like starting a 1000-piece puzzle with only two of the pieces, and trying to sketch out the rest with them only.

They were so taken aback that they couldn't do anything else that day. They ate dinner and attempted to talk about it (with little effect) then went to sleep. Because of the size of the room and the fact Emil had taken up an entire bed, many of them were forced to sleep on the floor. They had before, too.

Alfred wondered why they didn't just rent more than one room- it wasn't like they were short on money. Maybe it was just reassuring to see the people you care about by you; he wasn't sure.

Most couldn't quite get to sleep with Emil in the room.

* * *

In the morning, Emil was the first one awake, and he seemed to hold more confidence than he had yesterday.  
Today was the day, that they were supposed to be meeting Lukas and the others. They were going to go yesterday in a fit of desperation, but now they dreaded every minute they got closer to meeting them.  
They had all agreed last night that they had to go, despite the risks, they couldn't let this mystery grow stagnant. They had just received a giant clue and a human life in their trust.

Francis volunteered to stay behind with Emil.  
"Isn't it all a bit scary? ...Someone must be here at the end of the day, holding down the fort."

Before they left, Emil placed something in Alfred's hands. His eyes widened. It couldn't be... But it was.  
It was a grim, deadly-looking knife.  
He stared straight at the Icelandic for answer, and he stared back, "Lien slipped this into my jacket pocket, I only found it this morning. If the people you meet are the ones who hurt me, you may need this."

While he didn't want to be arrested for assault or even manslaughter, Alfred felt safer with it in his pocket. The others looked on warily as he slipped it in, the knife was rather large.  
They were now breaking the law, just by having it with them.

It was a terrible thought, but they needed any possible security, any way to feel that there was a possibility that they could fight back and prolong their lives. Alfred tried to pretend that he didn't have it in his pocket, attempting to convince himself, but the weight was too _there_. It wasn't necessarily that it was heavy, but all the opportunities of hurt and death in its heavy blade.

They set out, a hundred times more paranoid then they would've been if they had never come across Emil.  
When they arrived at the address, most of them were shaking. Fear- what a potent emotion. Reaching out a shaking hand, Alfred knocked on the door, three times.

The person who opened it felt inexplicably _wrong_ , in a difficult way to describe.  
Maybe it was something in their eyes, their mannerisms, their walk, their horrible smile. It was probably the smile- it looked so forced and fake, but in a different way then the normal definition. Whatever it was, it was strange and awful and uncomfortable. The thing spoke.  
"So, you must be those people looking for Arthur Kirkland! I'm Lukas, Lukas Nielsen! Come in, come in. We have a lot to talk about."

The last part sounded slightly sinister, but they came in anyway, with reluctance.

It was a nice, quaint house, definitely not a place that they would've thought to hide a tortured captive. They arrived at the dining room table, and three others sat there, presumably Emil's other 'friends', all with the same uncanny smile.  
The most foreboding thing was the set-up chess game, the purpose of which unclear and seemingly sinister. Lukas sat down before the black side, and there was an empty chair for white. It unnerved them, ridiculously so.

"By that knife in Alfred's pocket and the distinct lack of Francis Bonnefoy, I'd say Emil Steilsson has somehow found his way to you. Probably through Lien, knew she was a traitor in the first place, but unfortunately I have to obey those above me. Alfred, knives are awfully rude at the dinner table, hand it over to Berwald over there," Lukas said in a casual tone. His words were dreadful, and immediately drowned all hopes that they could take them by surprise.

"Don't make me repeat myself! Hand that knife to Berwald, or some bad things might happen~!" Lukas said in an overly cheery tone. Alfred hesitantly took out the knife, and after confirming the action with a glance at the others, he quietly handed it over to the man with a terrifying demeanor and one arm outstretched. Just like Lukas, the smile didn't quite seem to fit his face.

"Wonderful, wonderful! Oh, Tino, why don't you go get some drinks for our friends? Matthias, take their coats!" the Norwegian ordered, and they did so. Lukas didn't offer a seat.  
"Okay, now that the pleasantries are over, why don't we get down to business. You want information for Arthur Kirkland, don't you? Well, that's what we have! Now, your best chess player, take a seat opposite me, won't you?"  
After a bit of debate, Yao took the seat.

Lukas nodded, "Yes, you're rather good, aren't you? It's a shame Arthur isn't here to play, though- heard he's fantastic. But I suppose if he was, you wouldn't even be here!"  
His sudden joke about their missing friend was uncomfortable, but they didn't say a word.

"I set up this game in case Emil found his way to you guys! Would you like to know what we're playing for?" his tone turned into something more sinister at the last sentence. Yao hesitantly nodded.  
"Well, let's see... If you win, then we tell you some information about Arthur's whereabouts. If we win, then we get Emil," Lukas was done playing around- though his tone was still cheery, it now held a certain bluntness to it that suggested he was being completely serious.  
This caught everyone off-guard. The stakes had been put into play, and they were high.

Yao had already figured out that their tactic of getting what they wanted was to make their victim as uncomfortable as possible. He wouldn't let Lukas get away with it.

"Isn't that a bit unfair? A whole person for just a little bit of information? What if we make it so that if we win, we get Arthur back," Yao blurted out.  
This immediately made Lukas burst into laughter. The other Nordics followed with raucous, uncomfortable laughter, that wasn't genuine and clearly was just to make them feel even more tense.  
"Oh, you're a riot~! So, by your reasoning, all human lives are equal? It's amazing how ignorant you are! You wouldn't trade a prince for a beggar, would you? Arthur is our wonderful little prince, and unimportant, broken Emil is our beggar. We're actually being awfully nice, giving you such large information when all we might get is a shattered little boy! Try, try, again!" Lukas replied.

What did he mean, Arthur was a prince? Wasn't he just ordinary? But, why else would people like this be compelled to kidnap a random 15-year-old, who lived in California, who wanted to write stories? How much did they really know about Arthur Kirkland?

"Okay, then. You said it's slightly unfair, in our favour? Well, then. Can we change what you get?" Yao continued his bargaining attempts.  
Lukas raised an eyebrow, "All we want is Emil. Nothing else. Now, why don't we play this game?"

Yao looked into Lukas's eyes and felt a chill go through him, and made the first move.  
His friends told him words of comfort and encouragement, but he didn't listen. He just put all of his attention on playing. This was it, lives were on the line. If he won this, they might be able to find Arthur, they'd be able to keep Emil safe.  
If not...

It was the most intense moment of his life, the most pressure. He couldn't mess this up. He just couldn't. It slightly amused him that it all came down to a simple chess game. So, just as he was cornering one of Lukas's bishops, Yao said, "Why a chess game?"  
"Hm?" was the lackadaisical answer.  
"If Emil's life depends on this, can't you just take him? You know where he is. Why don't you just not risk losing him?"  
"Because it's fun!" Lukas grinned, "Besides, who said there was risk of losing him?"  
Lukas took Yao's second rook and he felt dread creep through him.

Halfway through the game, Lukas started crying. He continued smiling, he didn't show any signs of distress, he didn't even say anything. He just started crying. When asked about it, Lukas shrugged.  
Yao wouldn't let discomfort and fear get the better of him.

It was clear that Lukas was winning.  
But Yao wasn't going down without a fight.  
He went in suicidal, sending his last pawn across the board in a desperate attempt to win back his queen. It was taken halfway through his plight.

"Check."  
Yao moved his king. Lukas moved his queen.  
"Check."  
Yao again moved his king. Lukas again moved his queen.  
"Check."  
Again.  
"Check."  
Again.  
"Check."

Yao was in a corner. He couldn't move his king anymore., it was surrounded by Lukas's queen and rooks.  
The only pieces Yao had left were his king, unable to move, and his last knight, also unable to do so while the king was in peril. Lukas had taken immense joy in taking every single piece of Yao's before the king.  
Except the knight.  
Lukas had missed it, assuming that it could no longer do any damage and went straight for his king.

He stared at the board. He had lost. He had lost, but it wasn't over.  
It wasn't over.

* * *

 **Kiku's character is not Japan's character.  
I think it's important to remember that, although they may share similar personalities, they are not the same person. I also think it's important to, when writing fanfiction, still make interesting and compelling characters and not be lazy by just using the characters from the original source and not developing them in any way.  
The Kiku in this story is the way he is because of the circumstances of the plot. If I were to portray a normal Kiku in an average Human AU, or Japan, I would use different characteristics. But, this Kiku's character is integral to the plot, and he has reasons for being this way. Please do not assume this is how I would normally depict Japan/Kiku. Thank you.**

 **The immense OOC-ness of the Nordics is all purposeful, and presented in a way that people who know about Hetalia will feel uncomfortable because of how strange everyone, especially Lukas, is acting. Please don't tell me that they're OOC and that I should fix it- it's all on purpose.  
Actually, I had a ball writing this chapter, mostly because it was so much fun to write OOC Lukas.**

 **Lukas winning the match may or may not be a reference to the recent Chess World Championship. Ivan would've been the one against him, but wasn't for reasons I will reveal next chapter... ;)**

 **Hope you enjoyed!**


	11. 9- Dragon

**Salutations!**

 **HAPPY NEW YEAR!  
Let's hope 2017 will be better than this one... Remember when I wrote a cheesy, hopeful fic at the start of 2016? Well, I'm pretty sure I jinxed it. Sorry.**

 **Fun fact: I had some good inspiration for this chapter even though my beta reader hadn't gotten back to me for Chapter 10, so I started writing it before she finished. Her username is ShutUpYourePerfect. Check her out!  
Talking of her- sorry! I sorta got this one out without your permission (a sin, I know) because:  
1\. I'm super happy with it and edited it myself.  
2\. I wanted to get it out before 2017.  
3\. It's a nice little plot twist for you to go into 2017 with!**

 **I LOVE this chapter. So much. It centres entirely around Yao- his past, his present, and his expected future. I call these sort of chapters 'character chapters' and most of the characters in this series will get one.**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

Chapter 11

Yao Wang had never been brave.  
Sure, in his life, he'd had many opportunities to be so. But he never really took the step to be properly considered such, always skimming the edges of such a definition, never quite cowardly, but never quite brave either.  
The first real instance was when he had still been living in China (he had moved to the USA for middle school and beyond). He was only 8 when there was a fire on his street. Billowing, dancing flames consuming an entire building. It had been a terrifying experience for someone as young as him, but as his mother led him away from the calamity, he had found himself staring at it. Enraptured, somehow, by the horror before him, in a way one can't properly explain in words. He could've ran into that building, then, and saved someone inside, he was sure. But that would be extremely dangerous, and a job better left to a professional. But he cried because he couldn't, he couldn't save someone.

The second time had been recently after he had arrived in the USA. At only 11, he was rather naive and hesitant and overcome by culture shock. He wasn't the best at English, but knew enough to get by. He had been walking to school with Kiku and Ivan when they saw something rather curious. A few horrified-looking people by the roadside glancing down at something. It was a person, but covered in blood. Whatever injury they had seemed to be critical, and one of the bystanders was frantically calling someone, presumably an ambulance. The others were attempting to perform some sort of first aid. Yao had wanted to help, to try to treat their wound, too, but... Kiku and Ivan seemed frightened and uncomfortable, and the ambulance would arrive soon, and he didn't know first aid and was only young, so... They went on.  
Yao had watched the news that night. The person had been called Stephanie Jasper and she had died before the ambulance reached her.

Then, of course, there was the third instance. Arthur Kirkland. A close friend, tragically taken away from him, from them, in a single night. Missing. Posters put up all over the little town, desperately asking for someone, anyone, to find him. Some of the posters still hadn't been taken down, in corners of both alleyways and memory. Yao had never felt so distraught by far. He just wanted Arthur back. He just wanted to see his friend again, and for this event to amount to nothing, and for it all to be forgotten in a year. Most of all, he wanted to find him. Yao wanted to follow the clues and look into the mystery and bring his friend back. But he couldn't, because it would be difficult to get anywhere without breaking the law, and the police would do a better job than him, and he couldn't get far, anyway.  
But he had yearned to look into it since the initiating event.

There had been more times, many more times- when he had been subjected to racism on the bus, when he had been called homophobic and transphobic slurs because of his long hair, when he had been threatened by a customer. He could've stood up for himself those times, but it would just create more problems. People narrow-minded enough to do such things wouldn't react kindly to a rebuttal, he thought.

Yao had the potential to be brave, but never really had the right opportunity to do so. There was always a variable, something that made him hesitate, something that subverted him from his goal. Maybe he couldn't show what he really wanted to do, to stand and fight instead of flying, because there never had been the perfect time for such an occurrence. When he thought of the three main events, he was certain he would change the outcome at his current age.  
He would run into the burning building. He would save that girl's life. And...  
Well, he was trying to find Arthur right now.

His current situation didn't involve fire or injury or police. It was him, staring down his enemy before him, over a failed chess game, in a wretched little house. It was simply between Yao Wang and Lukas Nielsen, not Lukas's friends, not even his own. And as that thing happily announced his victory, he knew what he had to do. He knew. Because the opportunity was right before him. Because the variables clicked into place and he was afraid. He was afraid of what he was going to say next but he embraced the fear and turned it into courage.  
He was ready to take the biggest step of his entire life.

His face hardened and his eyes had fire in them and his friends looked upon him with an equal measure of shock, sorrow, and curiousity because of the fire in his eyes.  
He didn't know what had brought him not to hesitate as he spoke, "You don't want Emil Steilsson."  
Lukas raised an eyebrow and looked at him straight in the eyes, "I think you'll find we do! Sorry, but you lost. No sore losers here, thank you very much!"  
"And why, exactly? Why do you want to hurt him?"  
"It's fun, of course! Hurting is fun," the Norwegian replied.  
"Then why are you partial to Emil?" Yao asked.  
"Oh? We aren't, you know! It's just that he was convenient," Lukas said.  
His friends didn't know what he was doing. They assumed that it was an attempt to get Lukas to play another game or be no longer happy with Emil.

Yao knew what he had to do now. He felt his limbs shake.  
"Then you don't want Emil Steilsson. He is ruined. Both mentally and physically, you ruined him. Any further you push him will result in fast death, that much is obvious from his state of being... So, I have an alternate idea for you," he said, as strongly as he could.  
"Hm?"  
"Instead of... Instead of taking Emil, you take me instead."  
He had proposed the idea. Now he just had to sell it. Of course, his friends wouldn't just stand by and allow this to happen. They were angry and worried, yelling at him that he could never do such a thing. But they weren't looking at the big picture. Emil was important. He had suffered through too much, he might be able to give them information on their journey, he might be the key to finding Arthur. Yao was nothing compared to him. So he continued.  
"I am not broken, mentally or physically. I have experienced little pain in my life, if it's the reaction you find pleasing, you will receive a better one from me. And, if you take me without any other negative variables because of your win, I will not put up a fight. Those are the advantages to taking me instead of Emil. You said you are impartial to him, that he is convenient? Well, it seems I am the most convenient option for you right now."

He said all of this with confidence and bravery. He said all of his without letting fear into his eyes or into his voice. He said this with an unwavering stare at the monster before him, and despite his shaking hands, there was an unquenchable, unavoidable fire inside him.  
In that moment, there was no debate on whether he was being serious. After all...

Yao Wang was a dragon.

Lukas looked shocked at this sudden turn of events. He even dropped his grin- then he laughed. A genuine laugh, not even of amusement. It seemed to be of joy.  
"Oh, my! What a turn of events! How very wonderful! You've surprised me, and convinced me! Alright, then- I agree to your little bargain!"  
Just like that, there was a knife to Yao's neck, the one that Alfred had handed over earlier. It was funny how it all turned out.

Yao was unfazed by this. The fire inside him didn't go out.

His friends didn't take kindly to it. There was resistance, potent outrage and concern and pleading.  
"Don't do this to us."  
They'd already lost Arthur, and the search was already causing this.  
"You can't do this to us."  
And they didn't want to lose him, too.  
Yao knew this. In fact, he didn't want to be lost, either. Part of him desperately wished that he had never said such a thing, never even thought of saying such a thing, that he had just gone on and handed Emil over. He, the most important clue they had, a real human being with a life, over to monsters who would only continue to hurt him. But Yao stood his ground and tried not to panic because of the knife to his throat.

"Please don't try to stop this," whispered Yao.  
This caused them to falter for a second. There was something in his voice, an urgency, even a begging. It told them to let this happen, to leave that house without him, to just be okay with their childhood friend being tortured.  
So the cacophony continued, and Yao just wanted them to stop. To let him go, let him sacrifice himself so they could find Arthur. No, not just Arthur- by now it was clear that this matter was far beyond him. Lien and Emil and these four and something, aching inside, a feeling, an unfathomable sensation. That this was so much larger than they could have ever imagined.

And there was resistance. There was so much resistance, and tears, and begging for them to reconsider. Yao knew that this was weakness, but understandably so, what made them human and good and important.  
He wondered why he wasn't weak.  
He felt strange.

"Stop!" was what Alfred said, even louder than he normally would.  
His friends stopped talking.  
"You're all acting like we're sending him to his death! We're not. This is just temporary, you know? He's not going to die in there. He'll survive, and we'll help him escape, and we'll have saved Emil. Emil is half-dead! Y-Yao is strong. Don't downgrade him like this! He's going to live, just you wait. He's going to live."  
Alfred was crying. He said it all, stubbornly through tears, insisting upon his ideals while barely believing them himself.  
Lukas was impressed once again, "You really think that? Ha, you humans are more interesting than I had thought! She was right."  
Yao frowned, "Who-"

"Now, then, I'm not giving you time to say goodbye. That's when all this nice bravery I've been shown will fly out the window- awfully anti-climactic. So, see ya!"  
It took them a few moments to properly comprehend Lukas's words. Then, before they could even object, the three others stood up, and spirited them away, out the house. They were so strong. Tears and outstretched arms and cries wouldn't stop them.

It felt like an eternity ago when they had been on the doorstep at the beginning, even though it had only been around an hour. It was still morning, there were still clouds and birds and chatter. But there was a singular, gaping difference.  
They were one short.

* * *

Lukas was slightly disappointed, because Yao was crying. He had thought that the Chinese man was so strong, but he supposed that bravery was another word for stupidity. It was best that he, at least, had some wits about him.

Actually, it was a bit kind to call what controlled Lukas's body the name of the former owner.  
Rather, "the thing in Lukas's body". "What had taken over an innocent person". "The Thing".

It was The Thing.  
The Thing pressed the knife more into Yao's flesh, making him shake a little as blood began to slowly drip down. But he was still standing his ground, ready for the fate he was approaching. How much fun The Thing would have, breaking him.

The other three came back, and it eyed them with distaste. Sure, it was nice of Hope to give it such accomplices, but it was wholly unnecessary. Plus, they didn't do much- just stood around until they were needed. They didn't even make a noise when it stabbed them! It was awfully annoying. The Thing sighed, and muttered, "Look after Yao while I go report in."  
What-had-once-been-Berwald took the knife and continued holding it to Yao's throat, while The Thing trotted down to his bedroom and took out his phone.

It pressed the often-used contact and got ready to be yelled at.  
Hope wouldn't take kindly to losing Emil, even though they had already figured out his power. But, the magic itself had been more of a curse, so they probably wouldn't even a have a use of it, more likely to banish him to the Forgotten. But, Yao... His powers could be used to their advantage. Bravery and wisdom. Much more handy. So, hopefully it wouldn't be killed. Yet.

* * *

 **I considered more fore-shadowy vibes, but it's kinda lazy writing if I put too much of it in an antagonist's POV.**

 **Hope you enjoyed, and Happy New Year!**


	12. INTERVAL- ONE YEAR AGO

**Salutations!**

 **Oh man, oh boy, oh man, oh boy, oh man.  
Well, I'm not dead. Yay?  
I really hate this website, but I've got a lot of readers on here, and I don't want to let you down. I recommend going over to my AO3, but it's fine if you stay on here.**

 **As for why I'm so damn late? Well... I don't have an excuse. Sure, school started in February over here, but I have pretty good grades and I don't really study too much. I guess I was just lazy, sorry.**

 **Nevertheless, I hope you enjoy this chapter! I really like it, plus we get a new POV, some new information, and Alastair being salty.**

 **SIDE NOTE: I JUST WATCHED LOGAN LIFE HAS NO PURPOSE OR MEANING WE'RE ALL GOING TO DIE ALONE AND IT'S ALL JUST A CRUEL ROLLERCOASTER OF UPS AND DOWNS THAT WILL NEVER STOP UNTIL THE PAINFUL RELEASE OF DEATH.**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

 **SEPTEMBER 27TH, 2014  
** **(ONE YEAR AGO)**

Alastair Kirkland couldn't bear the 27th of September. Every year it rolled around, he wasn't able to have a day even close to normal, always resulting in drinking and crying and shutting himself off from the world. It felt like his own little universe, on those days, where the only thing that mattered was Arthur. Oh, poor Arthur, who had a normal life until 15, who he had seemed to dislike though he loved him with all his heart. It was so for all his brothers, his rough surface made it seem he didn't care, but it was so much deeper if you knew him. Now, he tried to show more love to his friends and family, because he sorely regretted never doing so with Arthur. There was a lot of that, now; regret.

He had moved to Scotland as soon as he finished high school, not really because of his brother, but just because he couldn't tolerate America in general. He studied history then became a professor, and was currently taking full advantage of his vacation days to mourn. He was pretty sure the university had noticed he always took this particular day off by now.

It was only 9AM, but he'd already had a glass of wine, haphazardly placed on the table next to old photos. He'd talked to his family via text, as always, each word shared holding so much more meaning than what might meet the eye. They did it every time, but the conversations weren't long. He didn't talk to his mother, she always went through this day herself.

He thought about Arthur. He thought about their childhood together, firstly in England, then in America. He thought about his writing, he thought about his normally grumpy complexion, and the way he lit up when he smiled. And, Alastair wondered _why on Earth_ he couldn't just get over it.

Deaths in family were tragic, and you never fully heal from them, but when he couldn't move, couldn't breathe on this day, he had to wonder what was wrong with him. The Scotsman had considered going to a psychologist- surely he was more than sad... He had mostly gotten over his father's death, only feeling a little sad when the day of the car crash came around again. He certainly didn't miss work, drunk in his living room, crying over something that had occurred so many years ago. Maybe it was the lack of closure that did it. He wasn't sure.

Suddenly, there was a piercing sound of glass smashing- maybe he had placed something too close to the edge. He got up to investigate, but before he could move anywhere, he felt hands grab him from behind.  
Then, Alastair couldn't breathe, heart accelerating beyond any reasonable measure, feeling as if he were to throw up. He immediately thrashed out, flailing to hit his attacker. They responded by grasping him more firmly, attempting to restrain him as he tried to throw them off. They were strong, horribly so, and he felt his gut drop as he realised he may not make it out of this. His phone wasn't in his pocket, instead on the coffee table, and making a wild dash for the door wouldn't help him, as his neighbourhood was commonly deserted. He was making increasingly frantic and loud noises, but there was nobody to hear them.

His only plausible choice was to fight back, so he desperately searched for anything he could use. His attacker wasn't guarding his legs, and Alastair felt his heart leap as he saw a sheath around his waste, where he could reach and take the knife from. Without second-guessing, he grabbed it, and stabbed it as hard as he could in their leg. He heard them yelp but his grip still wasn't loose enough to escape from, so he twisted the knife and dug it deeper, making them finally let go as he stumbled away from them. The man grasped his phone, frantically thumbing in 9-

Before he could continue the life-saving number, the attacker slammed it out of his hand, cracking it. They brandished the knife that he had dug into their thigh, and as he saw them lift it up, he scrambled over the couch, the only way to move in the vicinity.

The attacker reached over the sofa to stab him, but he ran before it could hit him, heart pounding. He looked around for something, anything, to fight back with. The most useful thing he could reach was a rather large book, so he snatched it off his mantle, and before they could react, he smacked it over their head. They collapsed. He sprinted for the kitchen, where he took out a butcher's knife and laid down the book, then walked back towards the attacker with slow, deliberate steps. They seemed to be unconscious, but he wasn't about to take his chances. Only in this moment of clarity did he properly feel the trembling in his limbs, his choked, sick throat, his breath stolen from him. He felt like he was going to burst, and his various bruises and scratches from the fight could barely be felt with his intense adrenaline.

Alastair hesitantly stepped towards them, and took the knife out of their limp hand. His hands shook as he touched the bloody weapon and he placed it far from their reach. Then, he checked their pulse. They were still alive, thankfully. They had shortish black hair and their mouth and nose covered with a cloth. Their clothes were plain everyday wear, they had probably been trying to fit in. He looked at his broken phone, and tried to think of his next move. He didn't have a landline (who had one, anymore?) so he couldn't call the police from in here. He wasn't sure if he could use his laptop to contact them, maybe he should just run to the nearest business. He was seriously panicking, so didn't waste any time walking to the door-  
"Wow, you really beat them? I'm impressed. They were a trained agent, you know."

The man's blood went cold. He heard a voice from behind him, and didn't want to turn around. Instead, he reached for the door handle, but instead he felt something press against his back, and then he couldn't move, for more than one reason.

"Man, that's rude, trying to leave in the middle of a conversation. Come on, face me."  
Alastair stiffly turned around, and saw the other intruder. They had short brown hair, olive-green eyes and an unnerving smile. It wasn't too bright, small, as if they were satisfied by something.

"Hello! I'm Antonio Fernández-Carriedo, and don't worry, I won't shoot you. The gun's just a safeguard; I'm not here for the same reason as _them_ ," Antonio pointed towards the unconscious attacker.

The Scotsman didn't trust him, despite Antonio's claims. By the fact of his presence, it was very unlikely he had good intentions. There were a few moments of silence, before he said, "Well, say something! C'mon you must have questions; you were just attacked and now I'm holding a gun to your chest!"  
"Uh... Why did they attack me?" Alastair choked, his voice broken from his aching throat.

Antonio smiled, "Good question! You see, they were attempting- and failing, from your wonderful performance- to kidnap you!"

He went cold. A kidnapping, on this day, why didn't he think of it before? Oh, god, could that, was that…

"Does… That… Have to do with…" the Scotsman tried to get out.

"To do with Arthur Kirkland? Oh, yes! Not that particular agent, of course, instead one _very_ well trained mainly for that purpose," he mused.

Alastair could barely feel. He stared; this person, this person, this person…

They knew about Arthur.

He didn't want to run anymore. He wanted to capture Antonio, and interrogate him, and discover what exactly happened to his little brother on that horrible day. But, because of the wretched weapon pressed against him, he couldn't do a thing.  
"Oh, wow, that really threw you off, didn't it? Splendid! Also, I guess I should tell you. Arthur is alive."

It was then that he started to cry, hot tears stinging his eyes and rolling down his cheeks. No, impossible, he was lying, he was tricking him, this was all to get him to let his guard down so he could be shot. But, his heart ached at the very thought, the very notion of his brother still breathing, still living, still being there for him to be able to save.

"Who are they?" he ordered, needing to know, even if it was all a lie.

Antonio shrugged, "Dunno about the person who attacked you. But, if you want to know a more broad 'they'… Well, it's an organisation, by the ridiculous name of 'Hope'."

"Who are 'Hope'?" Alastair wheezed.

"Who I'm trying to stop. If you want a better explanation than that... Well, let's just say they'll lead us all to hellfire if we can't prevent them from doing so," the Spaniard explanation.

"And… Why do they want Arthur?" he could barely choke out the last question, overcome by all of this.

"Because he's so, so important. More than any of us can comprehend. Why? Well, because of his existence," he continued with the frustratingly vague answers.

Alastair growled, "Can't you actually tell me something useful?"  
"There's not much you need to know. I'm a renegade. I need more allies, can you join me?"

"I would, if I was sure you're not lying, or exaggerating, or trying to make me do something horrible," he snarled.

"Well, I can't promise you that. But there's more of us! And now you're on Hope's watchlist. Your best choice is to join, or you might get more visitors like that," Antonio pointed at the limp attacker, "And then where would you be? Basically, you can either trust me, or be kidnapped."

"Or go to the police," snarled the Scotsman.  
"Oh please! They can't do a thing. Hope finds a way, Hope always finds a way. I know more than most, because when I tried to stop them like that, _my friends died_."

There was too much doubt, too many missing pieces, too much suspicion. But it seemed it was his only chance, and also there was a gun pressed against him.  
"F-Fine. I'll help you. But can you tell me one more thing?"  
"Yay! Okay, I will- what is it?"  
"...Why did they want me?"

Antonio thought for a second, "Well, maybe they thought you had potential, as Arthur's brother. Maybe they had run out of other options. Possibly you were going to be a hostage. You're not that special if they were willing to kill you or injure you when you fought back."  
Alastair grumbled, "Will you ever tell me something helpful?"  
"Probably not! Now, you have some people to meet. Also, help me anonymously dump that person near a hospital."

* * *

 **Your eyes widen.  
"OOOOOOOWEEEEE, diddly darn what a situation, what a mighty fine chapter, but it's unfinished? POssibly, is thi sstory is the soin-off?"  
You smile in satisfaction.  
"OOOOWEEE, yes, that must be it. I am so darn smart."  
**

 **Well, Mr Poopybutthole, I'm sorry to say it's not. (I binged all of Rick and Morty in 2 days please save me.)  
The spin-off stars Emil as the main character. That's all I'll say about it for now.  
Alastair and Antonio's story will mostly be told in the background of this one. I am actually considering a spin-off exclusively for their weird and confusing adventures, but it's definitely not the main focus. No promises.**

 **Also, I'm really sorry if you now ship Scotland and Spain. You are now in the rarest of rarepair hells and are never coming out. Don't sue me.**

 **Hope you enjoyed!**


	13. 10- Losing Sight

**Salutations!**

 **Whoa.  
Anniversary of this story has passed, huh? I just want to say thank you for everyone's support in my endeavour into this story! I'm so happy that even one or two people are enjoying what I've written.  
To celebrate, here's a huge chapter!**

 _ **I've also re-written the first chapter.**_

 **I'm think of discontinuing Shattered Reflections. Not necessarily because I've ran out of steam or inherently dislike it - it's just that my friend and I have created some much better, more original versions of the 2Ps, and I want to use them in a fic/game. Also, I haven't updated in forever, so...  
**

 **Also, does anyone still read this fic except my beta reader? Please tell me if you do, haha. I have no intention of stopping but every word helps.**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

Chapter 12

There was little to do while waiting for them to come back.  
Francis had felt rather cowardly when offering to stay behind, but he convinced himself that it was because Emil was in no condition to be alone. And he was right in that regard, though the Icelandic man had seemed to be faring better that morning, there was no way he was okay after what had happened to him. The French man doubted he would ever be okay. You don't just _get over_ something like that.

It was a reasonably quiet morning. Emil ate the breakfast that had been bought for him in silence. The other wasn't hungry, just impatient.  
Francis updated Emil a little bit on the current happenings of the world, after missing so much of it. Their interaction was strangely simple, with an unspoken rule of not mentioning the situation. They were merely doing this to escape, not to ponder over their circumstances.  
It felt like an eternity, just sitting there, but there was little else to do.

Then, their peace and quiet was shattered by the return of the others.  
A quiet knock on the door (they had decided to leave the key with Francis, just in case) was all that it took for the two to get on alert, the French man quickly getting there to unlock it.  
What he dreaded was waiting on the other side.  
He hadn't seen his friends so helpless, so inherently miserable, since Arthur. It took him back completely, their lifelessness, their apparent sorrow.

And then he saw why this was so.  
A single, missing person. Gone. Not there. Yao Wang was not there, and his heart felt like it would burst in misery. What had happened? Where on earth was their friend? He had to be okay, there was a perfectly reasonable explanation for this and Francis was ready to hear it.  
But it didn't come. With no words, just a lingering sense of dread and a look from Alfred, the condition was perfectly conveyed.

He felt like he had been shot. He was 15 once again, police tape and sirens. Uncertainty. Missing, someone missing, someone inherent missing. It wasn't fair, why did it turn out like this, why did someone else have to go?  
Francis started to cry.

* * *

It took a lot of attempts for them to explain what happened, but it came through in the end.  
Emil was the least affected of the bunch, barely being acquainted with Yao. But, he had first-handedly experienced the horrors of that place, and nobody should ever have to again. This was cruel, this was inhuman. There was no way his friends, his _brother_ , could do such a thing.  
But they had.

Then there were those who actually had spent years and years with Yao.  
There is no word to describe the loss of someone you love with all your heart. It's a wave of despair, a marsh of agony, an inescapable, unrelenting sorrow. But it isn't, it's more than that, it's more, it's more, it's more.  
You're split in two.

They would be willing to stop this, right then and there. If it was going to hurt people that they loved, then they shouldn't continue and probable fruitless search. But, it was because of this that Yao had sacrificed himself. Wouldn't it be disrespectful to stop? Wouldn't it all be in vain? These thoughts coarsed through them like melting lead, burning and aching and without halting.

They looked at Emil, and saw Yao in him; terrified and thin and half-dead. It wasn't fair that anyone should go through through that, let alone Yao, a wonderful man they had trusted and depended on throughout their lives.  
Why wasn't the world fair?

Despite the want, they couldn't phone the police. Emil's testimony, the horror of the four they had just visited, the overwhelming sense of something bigger wasn't enough to hold back, but there was something else. A greed, the want to finish what they started, the want to find and save Arthur by themselves. This was what had spurred them to start this in the first place, and they were in so deep, they just couldn't break the surface any longer. The police were a safety net, a precaution, they thought. But, Yao was gone, wouldn't that call for their backup?  
Nothing made sense, because they felt like they wouldn't call the police. Nothing made sense, because they just couldn't.

Now, everyone was lifeless.  
Alfred was browsing his laptop lackadaisically. Matthew found himself reading the same page of his book over and over.  
Feliciano couldn't stop looking through old photos, Lovino joining him. Gilbert and Ludwig held a quiet conversation in German. Ivan read an article on astronomy, but didn't take any of it in. Kiku didn't want to think, and browsed mindlessly on his phone. Francis tried to sleep, though he wasn't tired.  
Emil listened to music, on an iPod he was borrowing from Kiku. It wasn't his genre.

The clock ticked by. They didn't remember if they had lunch or not. Soon, it was about 3PM, and it seemed that fate wanted them to be pulled back into whatever-this-was once again.

* * *

Usually, Alfred would be glad to browse his laptop, but today it just wasn't enough to distract him. It felt like nothing would be able to do so. Sure, he had appeared to be so 'confident' that he would be okay, that he would be strong, that he would come back to them, but he didn't really fully believe it. He needed some way to properly take his mind off things, so he tried to think back to how he handled the loss of Arthur. Sure, it hurt like hell, but so did the loss of Yao.

There had been so much pain and hurt. He was only 15, only a kid! The emotional toll had been so...  
He couldn't bear to think of it, but he did remember something his psychologist had told him (yeah, he had to get a psychologist for a few years after that). That maybe sometimes, instead of trying to run away from your problem, you face it head-on.

It was worth a shot. He got out his drawing tablet and started scribbling on it, and after a little while, he had made an acceptable piece of vent art. He felt just a little better, but still felt sick, so he decided that the best way to handle this would to make a tribute.  
He found a picture of Yao, and started to draw.

This, of course, was just a reference. He drew Yao in a more peaceful position, with his eyes closed. He wasn't dead, just getting some well-deserved rest. He didn't draw in his comic book style, it felt a bit disrespectful somehow, so he decided to go for a personal style he barely used. He stared at the finished sketch. This felt good, like he was making a tribute to someone lost.  
He wondered why he had never tried this with Arthur.

* * *

After browsing various social medias, Kiku decided to check the news, and he found something that made his blood run cold.

 _"Oregon woman found with eyes gouged out, police calling it animal attack"_

It wasn't Elizabeta, of course it wasn't her, he thought to himself. Just because it was an 'Oregon woman' doesn't mean that he should jump to conclusions. Thinking like that was ridiculous. Still, he found himself clicking through to the article, just so he could calm that one part of him that was less rational.  
Instead, it did the opposite.

 _"25-year-old Elizabeta Hedevary-"  
_ His blood ran cold.  
 _"-was found this morning in her diner with her eyes gouged out, appearing to have stayed overnight. The employee that found her immediately called an ambulance, and she is currently under critical care-"  
_ He couldn't bear to read anymore, feeling as though he were able to throw up. He was extremely fragile over Yao, something that few things can make him, so it felt like he was being torn apart while reading.  
But, he tried to think more logically, as he did. He needs to show this to them. They're currently at a dead end (he hated that term for one of his closest friends, but used it anyway), and needed to tell them.  
So he did.

Silence returned when Kiku finished reading the article aloud.  
They didn't personally know Elizabeta, but this still affected them. She had seemed to be so troubled for some reason, why? And now she had ended up...  
...like this.  
Eyes gouged out, by what the police were saying was an animal attack, but what wasn't likely to be one. It was lucky she was alive; if the employee had found her later, she would almost certainly be dead. This had to do with the mystery, they were sure of it.

Another broken clue, in this terrible search. It didn't even feel like they were doing anything anymore, just following around leads they didn't exactly find, events that they didn't exactly cause. But, of course, they couldn't stop now. They had to continue, they had to continue for Yao.  
They started packing up, on the road once again.  
Once again, once again, once again.

* * *

Though it was the afternoon, and it'd surely hit night before they reached Oregon again, they got ready to leave. It felt terrible, considering they were leaving Yao, but they had to keep going if they were going to make his sacrifice worthwhile, if they were to save him.  
But they had a conundrum - by the name of Emil Steilsson.

The most logical solution was to take him to a hospital, but for some reason, he seemed to be against this. He was scared that they were going to come for him again, that he should run away, hide. He was so damn terrified of them, to the extent that it was horrifying to the rest. But, if they were to not take him to such a place... He'd stay unwell. He was only doing so well because Gilbert was a doctor, and was taking care of him. No rich foods, as that'd be dangerous for a starvation victim. His wounds must be cleaned, antibiotics assigned, he must be checked for the development of sepsis or any other disease. This was the first time Gilbert actually had a patient who depended on him to survive, and a lot of his time was spent on Emil. He noted that it was very strange that, despite everything that had happened to him, he actually had rather good health, apart from his malnutrition and wounds.

So, they had to bring him along. It was sadly convenient that they now had room for another person to join them. He didn't seem like he wanted to still be caught up in all of this, but he didn't have much choice. But the others still did.  
They had touched with doom once, in the house of Emil's 'friends'. But, it didn't feel like they were in any consistent danger. They were brushing the surface of something dangerous, and huge, and they could still draw back. But they didn't.

The drive was nothing short of terrible, and they continued to drive despite going into night. They eventually started taking shifts, one driving (and someone to keep the drive awake), and the others sleeping. It was early morning when they arrived back in Oregon, and the familiar sights did not quell their general discomfort. It was now the 4th day into their endevour, and they were biting off much more than they could chew.  
They checked into the same motel, and the receptionist seemed shocked when they saw them again so soon. Thankfully, no questions were asked.

Despite being a bit too tired from the long drive, a visit to the hospital was already due.

* * *

Elizabeta Hedevary's operation had gone well, and she was no longer under critical care. She was allowed to have visitors.  
Hospitals had a certain feel to them. They were places of healing, but also of despair, and fear, and loss. The clinical smell and the worry of loved ones in the air was choking, and was significantly attributed to unpleasant things. Though, Gilbert wasn't fidgeting at all, possibly as someone who visited a hospital every day.

They lingered a bit too long outside of her room, before finally entering and seeing her.  
Bandages, bandages completely covering her eyes. The thickness of them set an uneasy feeling in their chest, and it was Gilbert, unperturbed by the environment, who first spoke to her.  
"Ms Hedevary?" he asked.  
She turned her head weakly towards the sound of his voice, "Yes, that is me. Do you have more things to tell me?"  
Elizabeta's voice was so tired, cracked with grief and stress. Gilbert frowned, "I am not one of your doctors, Ms Hedevary. I am one of the people you met recently, Gilbert Beilschmidt. We are all here, and came back to see you after your injury."  
The matter-of-fact, professional way he spoke to her slightly shocked the others, since he wasn't usually one to talk like that. But, she was a patient, whether she was his or not, and it seemed to be his intention to treat her like one.

"You... All of you... I am sorry, I made a mistake, I should've told you, even though..." she seemed very distraught.  
He replied, "You will heal from this injury. It is serious, but you are in good hands. And, blindness will not ruin your life, you will be able to adapt to it."  
Elizabeta shook her head, "It was not talking about my physical injury."  
This quietened him, and she asked, "Where are the others? Why aren't they talking?"  
"Uh, we are here..." Ludwig tentatively supplied.  
"May I speak of how this happened?" she asked.  
"If you are comfortable with it," Gilbert said.

Elizabeta nodded, and started on the explanation.

"It started around when Roderich disappeared. I started having these flashes, these memories of things that hadn't yet happened. They were small, and I wasn't that worried about them, but they still scared me. Then, I saw Roderich, I saw him being taken, I saw the fear in his eyes. After that, they abandoned all subtlety. A shadow came for me, it told me rules, it tried to make a deal with me. And I saw so many things, of all sorts of things, all sorts of terrible things. I knew too much, about what was happening, but I couldn't tell anyone, because then they'd hurt me, and Roderich, and so many people. So, I knew the secrets to everything, to something that's been going on for so long, right under everything. It was like this for so many years

Then, I couldn't take it anymore. I accepted the deal with the shadow, and then I lost my eyes, I lost my knowledge, and I lost something else...  
Now, I can't remember the terrible things. It's all gone, and now I can't save them because I don't know where they are."

They were completely overwhelmed. She couldn't be telling the truth, right? It was all absurd, and impossible. She must be delusional from the injury and stress she had experienced. But, she said it all with utmost sincerity, as if she were spilling her life's secrets, and it was much more than unnerving.  
Then, she seemed frustrated, "You're not going to believe me, because it's too extraordinary. You may not be used to all of this, but I want you to think. All these abductions, all these strange events. How much longer are you going to search for a reasonable explanation?"

She had a point, a terrible, terrible point.  
Gilbert's voice was shaking, "Ms Hedevary... You should get some rest."  
"You're not my doctor, Gilbert. Please don't say such things."

There was a silence, and she sighed, "Take my words into consideration. You will not want to be surprised when..."  
The Hungarian trailed off her statement, and suddenly she stiffened, "I remember something... Yes, when Hope comes for you. The name of the organisation that started this is Hope. It is not an acronym, it is Hope, and it is coming, and... There are others, fighting against Hope, and... And..."  
She desperately struggled to remember.  
"M-Magic is real. Listen to these words. Magic is real."

She suddenly seemed much more tired.  
"Elizabeta, we'll come back when... You are feeling better," Gilbert said nervously, trying to ignore what she had said.  
She nodded slowly, and then ever-so-quietly placed her head back on her pillow.

* * *

"You move as a rower moves; facing backwards. You can see where you've been, but not where you're going. And your boat is steered by a younger version of you. It's hard not to wonder what life would be like facing the other way." -John Koenig, Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows

* * *

 **Well, that was an interesting chapter...  
We're finally getting into the meat of the plot!  
Also, it's over 3K, the first in this fic to be so far. I really hoped you liked it. Please leave a review if you enjoyed it, I worked so hard on it and I would really appreciate it.**

 **Thank you, so, so much.**


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